Domino

7AM, the phone rings, but in my halfhearted state of torpor, I ignore it. While I am wearily grappling with the tornado that has become of my sheets, the first dusty traces of autumn light seeps through the blinds, emblazoning the room with stripes. I can't help but feel imprisoned, as if the light itself has become my captor, driving me from my lucid sanctuary into the real world. Sighing, I finally slip from the comforters embrace.

Per the usual, I head kitchen for a cup of mildly diluted coffee, but before I can settle at the table to get my caffeine fix, the phone rings again. Intrigued by the anomaly of getting not one- but two- phone calls at such an early hour, I rush over to the counter to retrieve it.

"Hello?

"I know you did it"

"Who-"

The line dies out. Perplexed, I flip on the static tv in the corner of my small NY apartment to a local station, and my jaw drops with a sudden realization.

It sure looks like I did it.

Because I left the bar early last night, thanks to a migraine, and in the dark, I must have taken a wrong turn, because eventually I ended up at the bar again, but now it was closed. And outside the bar was a peculiar cat, which I approached for the sake of company. But that cat ran into an alley and in pursuit of it I stumbled across a body and this was bad, very bad. And I tried to run away, though I really should have called the cops, and was spotted by a beggar man fleeing the scene of crime.

Squinting at the light now streaming through the windows, I mull over the imprisoning nature of my ill-fated luck.