19.
Paul is outside, at the side of his house, at seven thirty in the morning, when he first hears the scream. His stomach aches. His head is throbbing. His throat is dry and his mouth tastes like stale garlic and red wine. Paul is ill. Staring at the mess the raccoons left makes him feel all the more sick. He tries not to gag. If he gags, he’ll throw up. Paul straightens up, the black garbage bag in his hand, his wife’s plastic kitchen gloves stretched tight over his large hands.
The scream comes from the street behind Paul’s. From over his back fence. A loud, terrified scream; a scream that resonates up and down the street and echoes wildly. Paul looks around. Where exactly is it coming from? The scream doesn’t stop. It’s long and drawn out and panicked. Paul drops the garbage bag, pee
