Lost on Perdido Street
My swivel chair squeaked as I turned around to stare into the muzzle of a semi-automatic pistol. Behind the gun, sat a disgruntled veteran of the Viet Nam War, Mr. Gus Harrington. Rather than terrorizing me, the darkness inside the barrel fascinated, and I stared deep into the metal tunnel. No pounding heart beats, quick shallow breathing, or perspiratioin.
Beyond the pistol, his light blue eyes stared, then he ran a hand through his thinning red hair. What do I do? I heard my voice saying, ”Mr. Harrington, I need you to put the weapon on the desk, please." Is he bluffing? Or is it loaded?
Making a difference motivated me. A recent graduate from Louisiana State University with a Master's in Social Work, I was short on experience, but enthusiasm raced through my veins. If I keep calm, it’s possible I'll be all right. If I freak out, though, I won't be.