What was right he asked? The brick had hit the widow and cracked it. The light of the morning had revealed that an anonymous party had done their dirtiest. Though not shattered the wind screen had a demonstrable crack in it. That meant of course that he would have to replace it promptly or he would be ticketed and have to pay a hefty fine. Images of ethnic violence played like a tape loop. So many instances of violence and social discontent played like a tape loop. The overt flow of the shock of it to his complacency was sobering. It brought up so much of the recent past as a predicate to even worse times ahead. His chest was laboring now trying to catch the last breath of remaining fresh air. He had been wondering for some time what had happened to his daughter. She had not called since the beginning of the year. Her new boyfriend had swallowed her whole. Or more exactly she had been prone to being taken up wholly by her infrequent bouts of deeply intense relationship fervor. There had been clear evidence of an increasing dissatisfaction of him by her. Whatever it was he had triggered her fearful mania for hypochondria. He had been dispossessed.
That was the last most longstanding of his family connections that had disappeared. The day’s activity went forth without the benefit os a sharing of the most intimate of musings. How strange that the world had now become empty and cold. The worst part of course was that the larger world about him seemed fantastically to be going through the same throws of a similar form of disenchantment. A core institutional form of constant ire that was manufactured by the once reliable organs of society. This solitude made him uneasy. The assault upon his property seemed a rock cast down from some false heaven. That reaching young Apollo had been demoted to the ranks of a disempowered Brutus. His demographic had already become the most popular of all the groups to hate and constantly verbally depose. Supposedly that made anything treasured by him as wisdom anathema. The world of the past was now officially dead tot he current generation though it was still very much the opposite as a key part of his own continuum. What seemed the natural order of humanity’s progression through the dark with a searchlight was now considered wandering into a cave of darkness with s flickering candle burnt down almost to a stump. It nagged him that he might have too easily fallen into the easy pitfall of his own shortsightedness. Was the world so right with its inexhaustible ire for everything that was normal reasonable common sense?
The rock in his hand seemed to burn the skin in the palm of his hand. The voice of the conservative candidate in the coming national election was heard over the radio from the open car door behind him. Like a stern father the voice admonished the nation’s foremost declared enemies with an unwaveringly sternly uncompromising demeanor. The popularly voiced televised opinions of the pundits condemning him out of hand without considering more than their institutional political bias. This man seemed the dark prince representing his own seemingly failed world. His rhetoric not following along the guidelines of what had long become an exercise of avoiding any criticism in the popular forum of professionally skewed polls of supposedly representative public opinion. He thought to himself as he heard the candidate’s rasping voice huskily denouncing the legacy of the current administration, how could this be? It was almost impossible to be able to recall a time without crisis bubbling through the seams and cracks of the windows and doors. How had his own child fallen prey to the mentality of a constant harangue that seemingly been handed off by the current swing to the ideas of the extreme left. It seemed an inexhaustible poison that dripped into everything great and everyday turning it bitter to the taste. Unreasoning hatred as expressed in a unilateral playbook was now considered conventional reason that was trumpeted over the airwaves encouraging a series of meaningless incidents of fatal violence and destruction for absolutely nothing.
The sharp surface of the concrete fragment threatened to dislocate the small bones of his enclosed fist. The arm connected to the vile object now taught and straight. An image of a classic cartoon character with steam coming out of its canine ears displaced his conscious thought. A burning sensation spread down from his head to his shoulders making its way in a beeline to his hand. The next instant found him staring at his own hand clutched open and empty. Something somehow changed but yet not yet definable. Something bad, something indefinably awful and unexpected had occurred. The absurdly trivial childish image rapidly shifting back to usable vision of his immediate area. His animal instinct prodding his intellect still reeling telling beyond the immediate proof of his own senses that a limit had been violated. A line had been crossed. The doubt and sense of dissolution of spirit was gone. Instantly vanished as if it had been removed by unseen magical hands. He was restless. It seemed impossible to any longer stay in this area. He departed the garage leaving the vehicle’s broken windshield in fragments upon the front seats of the one venerable sedan. The jagged rock sitting pristine and unmoving atop the pile of shards.