olanda jones was preparing to prepare her famous eggplant salad.
there was a knock on her door - how extremely surprising.
this was indeed an exceptional event - virtually almost unheard of.
there had been an upsurge of murders in the metropolis.
yolanda did not pay very much attention to the news.
in fact, she often expressed skepticism as to their truthfulness
however, the reports of the murders had penetrated her consciousness.
barely, but they did float on the top of her brain.
yolanda reached under her apron and carefully extracted her phone.
she hesitated - maybe it was just robert from next door.
in the past, yolanda and robert had been fast friends.
bit they had drifted imperceptibly apart over the receding years.
except that they saw each other about every three months.
just outside their doors or outside in the quiet street.
yolanda and robert were both modern humans, count on. it.
neither of them dreamed much any more, sad to say.
but that was then, and now was the real thing.
moments passed - the knock on the door was not repeated.
i expect it was nothing, yolanda said to herself reassuringly.
there is nobody there - i must have been imagining it.
li should put more paprika in my famous eggplant salad.
i should really try to understand things in general more.
and not waste my mental energy on the media’s nonsense.
nutmeg - more nutmeg - and maybe just a touch more oregano.
the door burst open - and there stood robert the murderer!
it as not quite how ylanda had expected everything to end.
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