three hours later…

…and I’m still freaked out.

Cops finally left about an hour ago, removed the line-tape from our porch. I remember the cop’s face when they initially put the tape down here, somewhat young, blond, wide-eyed, looking more than a bit jumpy as he explained to me through our window (ground-floor garden apartment) why they were taping us off.

And I’m still sitting here, surfing the same sites over and over, unable to think, unable to write, just trying to calm down. Doing mindless ‘Journey’ stuff, searching out sites, pictures, something I haven’t done in months. Freaked and scared and wondering and going my god, why, to the point that I don’t even want to go get my car and put it back in our garage (ye gods, two garages down from that one), even though we’ve had bijillions of break-ins out here. I don’t even want to go out there in broad daylight tomorrow morning. Screw work.

I don’t look. I don’t want to look. Even as we were circling behind the apartments to get to ours at the end of the row (that garage at the far other end), I was keeping my head turned away. I didn’t even want a chance of looking. Even the sight of that empty dark garage just…jesus.

I’m gonna go hug a kitten. Then three cats. Then try to go to bed and huddle next to Brett all night.

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