Author: Hans Buchholz

This week, I went out on a beer run. Not far, I can see the store from my kitchen window. But, a coupla cops came at me fast on the way back. Coupla questions, flashlight in my face. Nothing more than a case of mistaken identity & ‘I match the description’. Could’ve happened to anybody. Right?

But, I had this feeling at the time. Justice is there for me. Might take some time, but justice is there. I called it a feeling because it’s like an unconscious thought – I know how arrogant that sounds.

Not everybody gets that. That feeling.

I wish I could change that.

–The 8^th Letter of the alphabet

I get it – I’m American, I feel it. I’m not made of money, let’s not break things right now. But there’s always that fucking voice. “C’mon man, you’re not going to hurt it!”  – and it’s right.

Back to my Killing, H