I had had a visitor. He had been sloppy, and he had apparently been in a hurry. My desk drawers were scattered all over the floor, emptied onto the rug. The filing cabinet had gotten the same treatment, and the file drawers, now empty, were stacked haphazardly in a corner. The chair behind the desk was knocked over, the books had been swept off the bookshelves onto the floor, and the phone had, apparently for the hell of it, been ripped off the wall.
I’m grateful for that last item. If there hadn’t been any mess in that room, I would have settled myself behind the desk, had some beer, and doodled awhile, trying to think. If the mess had been there but the phone was still working, I would have sat down behind the desk and called for some law.
As it was, I stayed just long enough to get a good look at the wreckage, and then I turned on my heel. I didn’t even bother to switch the den light off. I went back to the stairs, shut the door behind me, and started down to call the cops from the store, thinking what a good thing it was Joey was still there.
I was halfway down when the explosion rocked the house.
1st Spain (1984) Illustrator: Miguel Angel Prático: