Kate was riding to the co-op on her bike. She'd been warned that it wasn't safe, but really, what's the point of having a bike if you can't use it?
A group of young men stepped out in front of her. She tried to go around, but they grabbed her, caught her, took the bike and her wallet. They left her self alone, though, when a neighbor came out side and fired a gun in the air. For this small miracle, she was grateful.
The neighbor--Arthur--was an artist; she knew him from the local Buddhist zendo. He didn't seem the type to own a gun.
"What, and Buddhists don't practice martial arts, either?" he laughed, picking her up off the ground.
"I--yeah. Well, thank god."
He offered her an escort to the co-op. He went back into the three-story house; old houses, Victorian, full of gables and back staircases, and backyard gardens. She followed. He grabbed a handgun, concealed it, and put a jacket on.
"Isn't that illegal?"
"So's mugging."
"I thought you were an artist."
"I am. I'm also not stupid."
"Thank you."
"I didn't mean you're stupid. Look, I'm an artist, but I was also a Marine."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"Desert Storm ."
"Wow. I had no idea."
"You ready to go?"
Kate paused. "Do you think it's safe?"
"Probably not. But we've gotta eat, right?"
She nodded, and followed him outside.
I'd just like to thank WWO for awarding this post. :)
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