She caught him in the dining room, peering out the window with his binoculars, all of the lights in the room off.
“GREGORY WILSON WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” She shouted at him, causing him to jump.
He swore at her and told her to shush.
“I will not be shushed! Are you looking at that Richards girl again?” She’d once found him ogling the teenage daughter of their neighbor. Then threatened to leave him. That’s how she’d gotten her first fur coat.
“Dammit, Martha, no! ” He motioned for her to come over to him. “This is something much more important.”
He pointed to the house across the street, there was a moving truck in front of it. She peered through the binoculars. “The movers?”
“Look in the dining room.”
“So? They’re Indian or something.”
“They could be terrorists!” He hissed.
“We have don’t know anything about these people or where they loyalty is! They could be building a dirty bomb!”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“Come to bed, Gregory.”
“In a minute!” He was already back to spying on them.
She signed and walked out, wondering how she could turn this into another fur in her closet.
I won’t name names, but there are places in the suburbs of Memphis where you feel like you’ve traveled to another planet. Where all common sense has fled, seemingly replaced by consumerism and Fox News.