TWO WEEKS AGO
Abraham Jackson arrived home in a pool of nervous sweat. As soon as he had stepped into his house of the last fifteen years, he closed and bolted the door.
The warmth of the house and the smell of fried chicken and baked potatoes floated around him like a welcoming hug, but he was too unsettled and nervous to appreciate it, like always.
He moved to the living room window that gave a view of the front of the house and snuck a peek outside. It was early evening. The sun was just going down and the street lamps were coming on. Abraham and his small family did not live in a rich part of town with mansions and pools, but he had tried to give his family the best. The house he had bought fifteen years ago sat in a middle class area. There were no gangs at the corner of every stre
