I look out the window. The shed isn’t there. The lot isn’t there. There’s a building across from my apartment now that’s never been there before. How long have I been here? How old am I?

I feel my face. There’s only a little stubble. It’s only been a few days.

What happened to that man? I lean close to the window, fogging up the glass with my musty breath. Everything is in place. There’s my bushes and there’s the sidewalk with the crack from a tree root that people sometimes trip over so someone took to spray painting it yellow. Warning yellow.

Warning yellow.

I remember it being pink. It was definitely pink because I remember saying to myself “that’s the color of pink I would choose. That’s the color of pink those ribbon are that you sometimes find mysteriously attached to trees, even in the wilderness. They were pink. The spray paint was pink. Not yellow. Not warning yellow.

I put my hands on my head and stand there. This is it. More watching is needed. I go to my bedroom and open the drawer next to my bed. The DRAWER. My special drawer that has all the emergency things I need. I take out a bottle of pills and give them a shake. “You want to come with me?” I ask it. I give it another shake. That’s a yes. I open the top and shake out one. Then I shake out two more. That’s three. Only room for three out there, sorry. I put the bottle back in the drawer and toss the pills into my mouth. No time to waste.

I head to the door, looking back one more time, just in case. Yep, curtains still open, new building still there. Pink paint. I stump into my boots. My kickin’, stumpin’ boots, and I unlock the door and now I’m outside, the whole place I’ve been trying to get away from this whole time. Nothing good happens out here. But I need to see.

I round the corner and stand on the sidewalk, looking at the new building. It’s a business building. I know that because there’s glass everywhere and a parking garage and it has a name that has the word business in it. That’s all I know. That word before it doesn’t have any meaning to me and the letters change around. If I squint, it looks like it says BIG, then the word changes to HOT, and GREAT, but the business part stays the same.

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I don’t see people in there even thought the whole side is big plates of glass, but maybe they put it up over night. That could be. I think they could do that with a bunch of helicopters. Just pick up a whole building and plop it right in the middle of an empty parking lot. I could see that.

I look to my left, and there’s that crappy apartment building next to mine. The one where Mr. Mouth lives at. The one with the faded parking paint and graying asphalt. Cars with duct tape on them covering broken out windows. Cars on jacks, cars on rims, cars on top of cars. Stacks of cars. Mountains of cars.

I look back at the business building and the first word is now FUNNY. Funny business. I agree. Time for some funny business. There aren’t too many people around and I’m finding it hard to look at their faces. They seem like they’re all looking only at me and that’s inconvenient. I pat my stomach, “how you all doing in there?” I don’t hear an answer, so I wait a little bit. I pat my stomach again “I said, how y’all doing in there?” And I give it another pat. There’s a gurgle this time and I know the time is exactly right now.

Look natural. Easy to look natural. Just look all around at things, look at that! Isn’t that interesting! A leaf right next to a candy wrapper! Two leaves of a different species! See? Easy to look natural.

I stroll, easy as anything, right on up to Mr. Mouth’s apartment building. I know which one is his. I’ve seen him many a time, walking back and forth between the shed and the apartment. It’s the one on the first floor. Corner. Corner door. No climbing necessary. Right on inside, right on outside. I walk up to the door and stand there, looking at it and what’s all around it.

There’s a welcome mat and that surprises me. I didn’t picture him as having a welcome mat. I don’t have a welcome mat. Maybe I should get one? Does it make you look more natural? Having a well spoke mat? Does that mean you want people to come in and feel welcome, or does it mean welcome to try? The door looks like it’s been scuffed some, which makes it seem even more natural. If it was all banged up and covered in blistering paint with mold on it, that would be confusing, seeing as how there’s a welcome mat right under it. On the other hand, if it was pristine, it might stand out even more in this area.

Someone might take offense.

I knock on the door, then cover up the peep hole and put my ear to the door. Nothing coming from inside. I shuffle my feet on the welcome mat, listening for the sound of metal on concrete. that would mean a key. You think I’m stupid? I outsmarted that curtain and I’ve seen a lot of things. I keep my eyes open. There’s the sound of metal on concrete.