It is late. A lot of things can sound like a gun shot.
Unless you know what a gun shot sounds like.
I dial 911.
This is when I feel really stupid.
“I do not know that it was a gun shot. I did not see a gun shot. I heard a gun shot. It was in the building. I cannot tell you where in the building — sound sort of travels in this building.”
It does. This whole place is echoing concrete halls and walls.
It strikes me how much like a firing range this building is. That is what I thought hearing the shot. “That is a gun range sound.”
I do not tell the woman on the phone that. I already appear deranged. Girls should not know what guns sound like.
The woman on the phone is nice. “Better safe than sorry.”
Police come out.
What can they ascertain?
I keep thinking someone here is dead. And no one will know for a while.
I distract myself. I lash out at a friend.
That does not help.
I go to sleep thinking dark thoughts.
I do not dream.