By Dan Farkas

Settled in; favorite chair, cold beer, baseball.

I startle. I see him out the window. He assumes a wide stance, making eye contact through the rhododendron; a menacing stare.

He is a murderer. I had seen him stab a victim, continuing until it was a cold corpse, only days ago. Is he bent on ensuring I won’t bear witness? Is he considering killing again?

I am unafraid. He is only issuing a warning.

I return to the ballgame as the blue jay takes flight in search of another white-throated sparrow.

Dan Farkas is an itinerant New Yorker currently exiled in Cleveland. His joys in life come from creative writing, photography, the music of his youth, his wife and kids, and sometimes the NY Rangers. Among his published pieces are Ascension Song in The Prompt Magazine and A Shot of Whiskey in Anti-Heroin Chic.