Five of Em

I heard gunshots just now outside my apartment for the first time since moving to New Orleans. About 5 of them, very staccato, slow and evenly spaced.

I thought at first that they were fireworks or something, but the abrupt silence of the chatter coming from upstairs was a signal - yeah, that was a gun.

I reacted less than I thought I would. Lay in bed for a moment with my copy of the Economist, sort of peeved at first that it interrupted my reading of a story on the Vatican covering up alter-boy rape.

Then I hypothesized that getting away from the window with the light shining through it could mean my life, so I leisurely got out of bed and stood in the frame of my doorway -- the place they tell you is strongest during earthquakes.

Should I turn my light off? Oh no, that would make me look suspicious to an outside predator piece in hand. Better to pretend I never heard anything.

So, well, I'm back in bed again in front of that same lit window just 15 minutes later thinking about what that shooter must be thinking and ... I have no idea. Probably, hopefully, not concerned with my lit window.

I hear the elephant above me stirring and stomping around... A sign that he's not to concerned about lit windows either. But I'm not sure about whose stirrings to believe.