Way I See It by Wampus Reynolds

Way I See It by Wampus Reynolds

Author:Wampus Reynolds
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: Wampus Reynolds
Published: 2020-05-24T00:00:00+00:00


I get to my property and Tim the Tenant lurks in his usual spot, ready to spring. I move up the driveway and he comes out of his spot. He holds a foil-covered dish in his pudgy hands.

Hi Tim. How are you?

“Fine, Cole, fine. Thanks for getting to the sink. Uh, Dani made these for you.” He hands over the dish and I peek under the foil. Brownies.

Thank her for me.

I turn back to the stairs and Tim stops me.

“Cole, uh, can I say something?”

Yeah, sure. What’s up?

“I know this is a tough time and all and it may have slipped your mind. But we’d really appreciate it if you told us when you’re going to have a worker over at your place. He didn’t, but he could have wakened the baby.”

Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I even had one coming over today. Can you tell me when he came and left? I want to pay him fair for labor.

I wink at Tim the Tenant. He catches on that I’m saying I don’t want this “worker” billing me too many hours. He smiles.

“Gotcha. He got here about 2:15 and left by 2:45. He had a ladder and looked like he was working on the power line.” He pointed to the corner backed up to the alley The lines ran up to the telephone pole. “Power line.” I guess Renaissance art professors don’t need to know the difference between electricity and phones.

I thank Tim and take the brownies inside. It’s a nice gesture as is the store-bought greeting card wedged in the doorframe. The same ex who left a note yesterday is trying a more formal approach with me. She’s not a stalker, but she’s not not one either.

I look around the apartment. I look at my bedroom window. I can tell by the smooth line of dust on the pane the window hasn’t been disturbed. I open it up and pop out the screen. I lean out and look at the line. I can see the splitter from here. It runs to a dull blue-gray box taped to the wall under the roof line.

This isn’t something Tom Barrati, meth dealer on the run, would do. Nor is hitting me on the head with a bottle and running off down Main Street. Something else is going on.



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