A Summer Night

A boy is witness to his odd urban neighbors who provide intense drama on a sultry evening.

     His dining room blinds were closed.   What happened inside remained a mystery as I never saw any visitors.  I envisioned mutilated rotting corpses, and pictured dark musty rooms of crowded furniture covered in stained bed sheets.  On weekends, we’d exchange greetings by nodding and he appeared mild mannered and timid.  I’d see him hand mow his tiny backyard on Sunday.  His white sleeveless T-shirt exposed hairy shoulders and flabby arms. A folded newspaper lay on a rusted aluminum beach chair.  When done mowing, he’d sit for hours while clutching a transistor radio in his lap, the ballgame blaring.  Eventually he’d conk out.