It will get easier than this. It will get easier than this. Just been a while since I have gone on a little jog. Laps around the block or three. Needed to get out. Smell the fresh air. Just don’t get out like I should. Most of don’t. Part of where we are at. This time. This place.
“Sir, stop police!” The officer named Jim screams at me as he rounds the corner. “Please, stop.” Jim seems to be unprepared for this foot chase just as much as I am but only one of us has a good reason for doing this. Jogging. That’s where I have seen mistakes made. No need to start out in a full sprint. Just jog. I mean, jog fast but don’t blow it all out at once. At least starting off. Shit, with one fat guy behind me sucking air, I know I’ve got a good few seconds lead, holding steady, but still able to breathe.
The mangled wood fence that protected the little Irish families rose garden is my first obstacle. I hit the fence in stride and am over it in one movement. Jim crashes into the fence as he makes a half-hearted effort to grab me to end the chase. This injection causes Jim to lose his momentum. Doubling the difficulty trying to pry his weight over the top. Meantime, I am at the back entrance to my complex. 4-2-1 on the key box and inside. One last stretch before home sweet home. Home is not an invitation for a raid. The officer never got my real name or even a good look at me so the best he could do was start banging on doors. Trying to find the man that just ran through. He’s not going to get any answers at 3 o’clock in the morning. Maybe a riot. Safety in a community of suspects.
No comments:
Post a Comment