7AM

I heard the screen door open. Then knocking on my front door. I'm not expecting company, I told myself.  It's 7AM. I waited a few minutes seated at my table. I got up and peeked and saw an old man walking away towards two police officers who were standing on the sidewalk.

I sat back down.

More knocking, a persistent rattatat and ringing of the bell which I thought was broken. My dog barks. I stay in my seat. I remind myself I am not obliged to get involved. I could be in the shower. I could be anywhere.

More knocking and barking. Finally I get up and call my dog away and go out the back door and walk down the driveway to the sidewalk turning towards them at the corner. I see a  skinny old man with snow white hair and a lopsided swollen pink lip standing with two young uniformed police officers.  I walk towards them. 

"Did you knock on my door?"

"Do you live here? Do you recognize this man?" one officer asked.

I was wearing my wide brimmed hat like a landowner should.

"No." I said.

"I'm sorry ma'm," the old man said. "There was a big black guy I thought he lived here. His name is Chris." 

"Okay thank you," one of the officers said.

I proceeded to walk my dog.

There are five divots in my front door where the old man persisted or was it the officer knocking with a flashlight. Everything tells a story and now the story is in wood.