When I hear the men approaching, I am quiet, petrified and still. It’s their steps, I hear, or rather, I hear movement outside. Perhaps, it is the stray cat I’ve been waiting for. Then I hear,
“This one.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, shh, quiet. I cased it earlier.”
I am still in the seat when I hear the car door open. I am still in the seat when I hear his friend walk around to the other side. I am still in the seat when the engine starts. I am still in the seat when I hear the gravel, the pause, the gravel, the pause, the long gravel the pull away. I am still in the seat, breathing.
“Thank fucking god.’
I look up slightly just to hear better and then I sit all the way up. They stole the car in front of me. They checked to see if it had an alarm as I had the day I tapped it with my finger as I walked by, lifting the handle, just a test and for no reason. I never intended to steal this car. More curious, really, testing preparedness and they had done the same. They had probably been waiting to steal it for hours. They had probably been checking all the cars. They sounded white. The same white men I had run past. I wonder if they are the same white men robbing McKean. I am climbing over the seat. My charger is in my coat pocket with both phones. My pockets have grown heavy. I am looking up the street to see if anyone has exited from the noise and my skin is drumming. There are goosebumps lining my body and I can taste my pulse it’s so loud. If you were here, you would lay gently on my body and ask
“Is there a racecar in your chest?”
I would kiss you even though it’s stupid because I’m sorry.

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