Anniversary

 I run, feet pounding the pavement in time to my crazed heart-beat, run so fast that I feel like I am soaring.  Pounding on my door, cursing the automatic lock, pounding even harder, praying that he hasn't followed, isn't lurking in the shadows of the trees surrounding our house.  Allen opens the door and I fall into the doorway, panting, "Man with a gun, man with a gun!"  Somehow I am herded into the bathroom, my 4 and 7 year old in the tub, the door locked tightly against the four of us.  A phone is in my hand, fingers are dialing 911, I can't get my breath, a voice is talking to me, asking questions and I do my best to answer, watching fear spread across my children's faces as they hear the word "gun", hear my choked voice whispering, "I don't know where he is, don't know if he followed me."

Time skips and the police are here, in my doorway as red lights flash up and down our street, cop cars driving in smooth, tight circles as they patrol.  Questions, and more questions.  What was he wearing?  What did the gun look like?  Did he say anything to you?  Do you think you could identify him in a line-up?

I shake my head, suddenly questioning my recall.  I think he was wearing a hoody.  A young, African American man.  He looked desperate, I whisper, and flash back to his face, twisted and frightened, eyes darting back and forth as he pointed the gun at me.  "He said--You."  I explain, not sure if the officers understand the menace of the word.  "You."

You.

I heard something behind me, and I turned, as if in slow motion I turned, and the gun was there pointing at me, and the word was leaving his lips as if he knew me, as if I had moved in on his territory and I was the enemy.

I backed away, my voice tearing from my lips and bouncing off the street asphalt.  "Please!  Don't!"

He advanced, the gun shining in the luminescence of the street lights.  I crouched, hands instinctively covering my head, waiting for the gun shot.  I put the dog that I had been carrying in my arms, down.  The dog skittered around his feet,  The eyes darted faster, and the gun trained itself on the animal.  The gunman hesitated.  I ran.

Ran for my life.