“Someone said the world’s a stage,” I said. “But I think the world’s an audience. Everyone’s watching. No one’s performing.”Outside, on the other side of the glass, night had fallen. The streetlights had flickered on about an hour ago. Lights were on in most of the houses, and dull shadows thrown from the glow of televisions danced on the walls and faces of our neighbors. Cars drove by at safe, reasonable speeds. Cats scampered past, bodies pressed close to the ground, chasing mice and squirrels and birds with lazy perseverance. Someone out of the frame of the window was shooting hoops, the thump and the tinny, hollow ring of the basketball echoing down the nearly empty streets. Headlights briefly splashed across our walls. A car pulled into the driveway across the street. A young man with flowers emerged from the car, slammed the door with his foot, walked up the steps to the front door, and rang the doorbell. “Aw, he brought her flowers,” exclaimed V. “What a nice young. “Shall we go to dinner?” she asked.“Yes,” I said, “let’s go.” We took my truck as Ed’s wasn’t large enough for all three of us to be comfortable in and mine had a rack for the shotgun. We went to one of the large restaurants near the small town that Ed lives in, and we all had steak.As I got out of the truck, I had removed an automatic pistol from under the seat and slipped it in my belt in the back under my suit jacket. Ashley looked at me questioningly.“Remember what I told you yesterday?” I asked. “Always be prepared.” We had a fine dinner and there was no trouble. When we returned to the truck, I replaced the pistol under the seat. I can’t drive in comfort with it in my back, besides now I had the shotgun in easy reach. We dropped Ed off at his house and headed home. Ashley had gotten back in the front seat when Ed got out. He’s too tall to set in the back, comfortably.As we neared home, I slowed the truck and pointed out various indicators near the road on the way in and made.
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