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The police arrive, take over the crime scene, and then ask us questions. They question everyone
who was in the building at the time, which wasn't much because it was early. They ask about the
blood trail, if anyone was missing, but that question goes unresolved. I figure if Derek is still alive
he's long gone anyway, probably looking for his brother.

The body is taken, and as I look outside my window to see her being carried away, I see the large
group of people who are wondering what had happened. Wondering if someone got hurt, or if
someone had died. Ambulances, police cars, they do that to people. They attract them and cause
them to huddle up because there must be something out of place. The ambulance sits there,
running, but not moving.

After a while, they finally drive away, and I wonder if that's the last time I will ever see her again.
I wonder how I will tell Joe what happened when he wakes up, if he wakes up.

Some time goes by and I'm sitting on my couch, Kathleen's death hasn't fully sunken in yet. It
probably never will. The deaths you hear about on the news are so foreign, but when the death has
happened to someone you know, when it's so close to home, it's a different story.

Across the hall I can hear Lynne arguing with her mother about something, probably about getting
out of this part of town because it's too dangerous. It's not really that dangerous, though. The real
danger is where basic human needs are not met.

I get up to go to the room where Derek was staying, the room that houses all of my composition
notebooks, and when I peer inside I see an open notebook on the ground, it was obvious that Derek
was interrupted.

As I go to pick up the notebook, I too am interrupted as the phone begins to ring. That damn
ringing sound. The ringing sound that tells you that you will be engaging in a discussion with
another human being very soon.

What the ringing doesn't tell you is how long the discussion will be, or what the contents of the
discussion entail, or who exactly the discussion will be with. I guess if you have caller
identification, you can see who it will be sometimes. If you know who it will be, then there's a
chance you can figure out what the contents of the discussion will be about. If you can figure out
what the contents will be about, then perhaps you can figure out how long the discussion will be.

I pick up the phone, it's the police station, asking me to come down and answer a few questions.
Police officer, question, less than two minutes.

I'm at the station, more specifically in a small room. Before me there is one police officer, a
detective, asking me questions. What time did I discover the body, when did I leave the building,
what was Kathleen White doing visiting me. As time goes on, the questions get more offensive,
like I'm the fucking murderer.

On my way back home I pass by my parents' home, and the church we used to go to, but I don't
visit either. Instead I wonder why I have allowed myself to become so far gone. From people,