The Blues & Billie Armstrong 46
BATTING PRACTICE
Previously in The Blues & Billie Armstrong…
She looked like a candle moving away toward the dark. The moment gone, her shadow ducked back through the window to her room. I heard the wooden scrape of the window sliding shut. The light went out.
This is the part where she fights back.
I woke suddenly to some noise, a thud or something else that goes whump in the night and leaves quiet behind. All was darkness and the low hum of the civilized world. And this time I sat up, fully awake. I listened to the dark and strained my ears for information. From the kitchen, I heard the wall clock tick away a minute. The harvest gold refrigerator chanted om in its stately meditations. No more music drifting in under the window. No other sound.