100 Words - Knocking
As long as the door remains closed I’m safe. The knocking may be Girl Scouts selling cookies. It could be Mormons harvesting souls. Or it could be the police thinking that I robbed that guy on the news. Kind of like Schrodingers Arrest Warrant. Not guilty by means of staying inside.
The knocking stops. I peek through the curtains, but don’t see anyone. There are no police cars in the street. Then a face appears a couple inches from the other side of the glass. It’s my sister. She brought me food. She puts it on the ground and leaves.