FICTION
Once I Saw a Murder
A homeless man’s account
I was walking down Covington Street, with the screeching elevated train overhead, when I noticed this couple arguing in the alley.
I usually walk past trouble, but this time, I had a compulsion to watch. Hell, I didn’t have anywhere to go except to scour for food, loose change, or cigarette butts on the street. You know, the standard fare for a homeless guy.
The man was about six-foot-five and screamed at this tall, skinny hooker. I couldn’t hear what they said, but it was a volatile situation, and I knew it wouldn’t end peacefully.
The woman wore the usual hooker outfit, a short skirt that showed her thong and backside. The two bickered loudly, and soon the bulky guy punched the woman in the face — not a slap, but a full-on knuckle sandwich. But, surprisingly, she didn’t fall. Instead, she fought back, began kicking the man, and slamming her purse against his head.
They fought and wrestled as a couple of crows were scavenging for food in a nearby dumpster. After the woman kicked the man in the groin, he pulled out a gun. I thought he was trying to scare her at first, but then he pointed it at her head and pulled the trigger. Even in the darkness, I could see the gun’s smoke and the streaks of blood splatter.
