they squeeze the fiberglass grip,

head down, 

arms at side.

one hand,

situates a fist.

the other,

houses a Glock,

swaying 

back and forth, 

aligned with the movement of their arms. 

 

a Glock,

recently freed from the forbidden black box in the closet.

the forbidden black box in the closet that appeared

just days after their brother expired

on the 

white 

tile 

floor 

of the so-called ‘safe’ building

that holds hundreds of people everyday.

 

the key to the forbidden black box in the closet,

forever sitting

in the empty drawer,

in the empty kitchen,

in the empty house.

 

an empty house 

that led to 

empty parents 

that parented

an empty child 

to do such a thing. 

 

as their feet move them toward their destination,

the hall gets louder and louder.

more and more people,

filling the previously empty space 

with laughter and excitement. 

they stop, 

raise their head, 

mutter something that catches no one’s ears 

and with a loud bang,

the hall seized, 

going quiet for a second

then instantaneously 

converting

into insanity. 

 

the hysteria overflows each and every person 

with fear and panic. 

fear that they’ll be next, 

if they don’t continue moving, 

hiding, 

searching for an exit. 

 

an exit that doesn’t exist 

because they took care of the exits before,

before they set foot in the hall

that was, just seconds ago,

filled with laughter and excitement.