there is a man sleeping in the hallway.
my parents picked him up off the side of the road, the poor kid probably wasnt older than twenty. He was too drunk to get into the homeless shelter so they gave him a sleeping bag and left him to sleep in the apartment hallway. he knocked to ask for water, after seeing into our home he gazed about and asked innocently, "would you mind if i sat on the sofa...maybe i could watch tv?" i could hear the hesitation in my dad's voice; "well,uh...we would love to have you come in but...we are going to sleep now...we are going to...er..crash." I remained seated motionless in my room afraid of being spotted, a common routine for anyone unknown who enters my house. I felt guilty as i watched seinfeld. Yet, i still managed to develope a suspicion for the man. Perhaps he would get in somehow and hack me to pieces. I keep expecting to look over and see him the the doorway, ready to bash my brains in. Its really a shame how untrustworthy you are forced to be with people. If I live through the night, i am half expecting to wake up tomorow and see him at my table, a plate of waffles in front of him. Wearing one of my dad's old button up shirts.
"Honey, this is Brock, he's going to live with us from now on i hope you dont mind."
i could even have an older brother...