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The Stars Are Not In Alignment

Someone broke into the apartment directly above mine this weekend, tore the door completely off its hinges.

The main door lock had broken the previous night, probably by the same people, which rendered our "secure" building no longer so.

B and I had seen the two men suspected in the crime just the day before as we hugged his parents goodbye. They sat on our porch and asked us for gas money, or if we needed gas money, or something along those lines. We denied brusquely and shut the door behind us.

I was able to give a completely awful description to the police while my husband, trained in such matters when he was an armed guard, was able to describe them perfectly, down to their height plus/minus two inches and their weight plus/minus ten pounds.

He even used the word "swarthy" when describing their complexions. How hot is that? I wanted to jump him right there in the hallway in front of our two landlords, three other neighbors, and four police officers.

"Swarthy."

We kept waking every half hour during the night, our nerves on alert for any noise or smell or pressure change or star alignment out of the ordinary. The dog, however, slept like a baby.