I walked into the house, three bags of groceries in my arms. I set them down and opened the front door. I picked them back up, walked into the kitchen, and began to put them away in the cupboards and refrigerator.
Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted my tranquil state.
I set down the box of cereal I had previously been putting away and went to go answer the door. I never have visitors, I thought. Who could it be? I smiled when I opened the door and saw my neighbor, Joshua, on the doorstep.
"Can I come in?" he asked anxiously.
I furrowed my eyebrows, concerned. "Of course... What's wrong?"
He sat down on the couch, his hands in his jacket pockets, his right leg was bouncing nervously, and he was looking around, as if afraid someone was going to sneak up on him. It appeared as though he really did not want to be here. "Uh," Joshua said. He licked his lips. "I just ... uh ... I was wondering if ... uh ... you'd like to come over for a movie tonight."
I pursed my lips. I love Joshua as a neighbor, but he's always seemed a little... psychotic to me. "Oh, Joshua, I'm sorry, I can't. I have to work."
He looked at me, then, fire in his eyes and nostrils flaring. "I knew you wouldn't accept me. Everyone hates me. Especially you."
That took me off guard. "Now, Joshua, you know that's not true. I---" I stopped midsentence as he got off the chair and walked into the sitting room. "What are you doing?" I called to him.
He stepped out of the room with a pistol in his hands, his knuckles white. He had a crazed expression on his face, and I could tell that this was turning for the worst. Behind my back, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, but didn't hit the "call" button in case I could get him to calm down.
"You hate me... you don't even deserve to live," he whispered.