Devonne Brown

I asked for the time, but the darkness didn’t answer. I rolled out of bed, and walked down the hall to the kitchen. The clock on the stove said 3:00 a.m., so why not make coffee and enjoy the quiet of the morning? Listen to the songbirds and the breathing of the sleeping humans in the house before daylight wakes everyone.

The windchimes sang a slow song and waltzed in the breeze on the back porch. The front door knob rattled. Everyone and everything that could open that door was already in the house, there was no good reason for the doorknob to shake, rattle, or roll, but it did it again. I started to sweat. I didn’t like being afraid. I walked to the door, turned on the porch light, and knocked on the door. A shadow passed in front of the window and ran down the driveway. 

My peace was shattered. 

“What are you beating on the door for?” said a groggy voice from the hallway. “Someone was trying to break into the house. I scared them away. Should I call the police and let them know someone’s prowling the neighborhood?” I wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t woken up. The thought of a policeman here in the house was just as bad as a burglar, but probably necessary. 

The windchimes continued to waltz in the wind. The coffee was fragrant and sweet. Good continued to grow in the world, while a cop sat at our table, and policemen combed the neighborhood looking for someone who didn’t belong at three in the morning interrupting bird song.