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Weekly Contest #370
It’s a few minutes after 3 a.m. I am sitting in my car. Waiting. That’s a lie. I am not waiting. I am procrastinating. I tell myself that perhaps someone will come by, or perhaps someone has spotted me in my rusted-out Honda and is phoning the police even now. I vainly listen for the sounds of approaching sirens, watch for the lights in the tenement to start flickering on like some huge concrete machine. It’s bull, and I know it. It’s fear that keeps me in place. Fear of detection. Fear of action. Fear that my nerve will fail me when I need ...
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