The thing that haunts me is I didn’t even know the man’s name. Didn’t know he was only 4 years older than me. Didn’t realize that it was his son who was banned from our property. Didn’t hear the sirens or see the spinning lights on the emergency vehicles called to do a wellness check. I didn’t know any of this despite he only lived three doors down.

I still wouldn’t know now if Rhonda hadn’t stopped me as I scurried inside my place. Rhonda is the good neighbor who waters my poor impulse flowers. She’s the one who hadn’t seen him since Sunday. Who noticed the flies. Who called 911. She’s the one who shared the pain of discovery and fear of shady death– windows closed, air conditioner off, signs of struggle– in our peaceful complex. So what’s worse- to know or to be oblivious?

My world sharpens, clarifies
Claustrophobic knowledge
A small world threatened