The scraping sound grew louder.., and louder. It had been a late night to early morning and I’d just gotten to sleep, so it was particularly disturbing. And just when I thought it had come to an end prompted by a pause in pattern but just a tease - the scraping sound returned even louder and continued to grow; without regard; approaching and closing-in.., the consequences promised to be dire.

The sound had now grown in level and pitch to the point I was sure it would break my brain; then startled by a sudden flash; a fleeting moment of clarity; I now recognized it – the sound. I knew what that awful sonic assault was and I was right; the consequences would be dire..., absolutely dreadful.

It was the street cleaner; meaning this was street-cleaning day and I was parked on the street during a forbidden point-in-time; and I would be severely punished; a fine so big it would warrant a warrant and priority motivation pled-out to a costly finance scheme.

Sure there was the possibility that I didn’t get tagged – everything is possible. But it’s life’s nuance in context that keeps us from falling off the edge of the earth; and just as sure I wouldn’t fall off the edge of the earth, today; I was that sure I got tagged because it’s street-cleaning day - a fixed point in time - and I know the meter-maid and what’s worse.., she knows me.

She was from my past while troubling for my future or more specifically; me in association with my sister. She thought it was me that was keeping them apart. Of course it wasn’t true, she’s not even my sister but what I thought a one-nite-stand; now it seems all a lie.

The scraping sound grew louder.., and yet louder. Just as I was falling back to sleep they start working on the apartment next door just recently vacated when the tenant was led away in four-point-restraint. A quiet guy, kept mostly to himself – seemed nice enough – although he did have a beard like I just don’t feel like shaving today; but the FBI says he was planning to blow a bridge.

And from the neighbor of my neighbor; “So I know this guy who knows this guy that sleeps with this girl who no longer sleeps with her husband - some cog in the DHS bureaucratic machine.” He tells me.

“And I hear it was a set-up.., a con..,”

“A false flag? You heard that from the guy who knows this guy that sleeps with this girl who no longer sleeps with her husband - some cog in the DHS bureaucratic machine?”

“No. My mother’s boyfriend, Fred, who reads a lot.  And he says.,“

But I can’t hear - that scraping sound from next door has grown too loud and been joined by howling leaf-blowers from outside and the dude’s mouth is moving but meaningful measures are shattered and absorbed by harmonics sending me falling off the edge of the earth.

EPILOGUE>

The scraping sound grew louder – and louder - as did I hours later; regaining focus just outside an approved perspective, “This is fucking madness”; I screamed over the full orchestra of noise that holds a city together “It doesn’t have to be like this.,” I passionately pleaded, “It could be anything we want. And this is what we accept?” I shouted for all to hear; but there was no one that could listen.

The scraping sound grew louder - and still louder.