The warm night befuddled me. The thick quilt of lethargic darkness. The cool raindrops of haphazard origin. The sweet aroma of rotten leaves. The intricate whispers of long summer days. The dull heaviness of long weary eyes. The soft brush of coming winter.

I don't know why such a simple thing as night might confound me so, nor why this night claimed such import. For the life of me, I can't seem to grasp even the simplest of explanations for such a peculiar feeling. It all just seemed so real.

A lonely car lulled by the barren street sometime after three, basking in the dull haze of the half-set moon. The moon wasn't full, with its gruesome craters and abhorrent mountains, but it wasn't empty, either. Lost in the resurrection of maybes, pulled taught by the ominous meager sliver of light, the moon waded in the dark.

Time has a way of never revealing it's true identity. Parading in the veil of science, time deceives even the smartest in dubious delusions. But the moon was wading, that's for sure. Or was I waiting?

Why was I out at such an hour, on such a day? Surely I wasn't parading in the bleak eery morning dew for the fun of it. Especially in a city like that. No, certainly never in a place like that.

Then why was I out?

Perhaps I was coming home from somewhere? A party or get together or something of the like. Maybe I was drunk and couldn't drive home. But then why did I insist upon such a long laborious walk to my cheap shabby apartment some two miles away?

Two miles away from what? From the party? Maybe. The city? Probably. But then why was I in the suburbs? I was in the suburbs, wasn't I? How else do you explain those cookie cutter homes with their over pruned lawns and their creepy ugly gnomes? That's the surest sign of a suburb if I ever did see. But then why was I in the suburbs?

Maybe the party was in the suburbs. That would make sense. But how could I possibly have made it home from there? The suburbs are way over past the hills, some ten miles away by my count. Even on a gorgeous afternoon with short shorts and a killer pace it would still take at least an hour. And there's no way in hell I was running at three a clock in the morning. Especially if I was drunk.

That's another thing. How did I know it was three a'clock in the morning? Though I forget much of the night, including my former whereabouts, I am sure of that time and that lonesome blue van.

And that's another thing, what was a car doing out at three in the morning, especially on a Sunday? A better question: what was I doing out at three in the morning? Surely I knew about today. I had to. How could you forget something like that?

No, no one much forgets the day they propose. I suppose I'll never forget this day. That is, if I ever get the gumption to actually do it. First I have to get over this splitting headache. Furthermore, I have to figure out what the hell happened last night.

Who was throwing a party on a Sunday, anyhow? Especially one with so much alcohol. Don't people have jobs? Don't I have a job? No, you don't, remember? That's why you're in this shitty apartment. Right. Right. How did I afford that ring again? Right, a loan.

Well, to be honest, the loan is technically for that tea business I'm finally going to pursue. My long lost dream finally come true. Just as soon as I can find a place, of course.

Obviously, I'll never find a place, because the money's long gone, that and every chance of ever owning a business. My credit is screwed.

But that's okay. All in the name of love, right? I guess she won't be so happy when she finds out where I got the money, but that doesn't matter now. We can worry about that later. When it matters.

Where did I get that money, anyhow? There's no way in a hell a bank loaned me that kind of dough, I can't even get a credit card. I don't have any rich friends. I don't have any wealthy acquaintances. Hell, even if I did, they'd never give it to a loser like me, even in the name of love.

It's not like I much blame them. I wouldn't trust a scumbag like me either. Not even if my life depended on it.

So then who did? Who was stupid enough to loan anything to a dumb-ass like me?

Then I remember. Everything. The loan shark, the petty gang, the drunk gambling, the prostitutes, the wobbly fights. Everything.

Oh shit.

What have I done? Better yet, what am I going to do? I can't pay off a debt like that! Not now, not ever! Ten thousands dollars! What the fuck was I thinking?! How the hell am I ever going to get that kind of money? I don't have the collateral for that kind of stuff! Who the hell would trust a dumb-shit like me? And why the hell would they give me ten thousand dollars?!

Oh shit! Oh shit! You know what they do to people who can't pay their loans! Oh shit! Oh shit!

I wouldn't be so scared if they just chopped your head off or put a bullet between your eyes or something like that, but that's not how they do it. No, no one would ever be so ignorant as to kill off such a valuable resource. No, they'll do much worse than that!

They'll kidnap your girlfriend and fuck her and rape her and slap her and kick her and make you watch all the while. They'll spit on you and shoot you and laugh you right outta hell until your far passed desperate.

Then you'll do anything, anything for the money. Rob a bank? Maybe. Kill an old lady? Possibly. Become a prostitute? Probably.

Oh shit. What have I done? What can I do? Is there anything I can do? No. It's over. You're fucked. The best thing you can do now is run away, and run quick. Will she go with you? Will she even say yes? I don't know. It doesn't matter. Not anymore. Not if she has to go through that.

I have to get her to leave. I have to! They'll find her, I know they will. I don't know how, but they will. They always do. That's what happens in the movies.

What's that sound? Is it a bomb? Oh shit, I can't die now! No! No! No! No! I don't have time to die! Not now! Not fucking now! Why the fuck didn't you just kill me yesterday? Jesus Christ!

Oh wait, that's not a bomb. No, that sounds like a knock. A knock on what? Is that my door? Whose at my door? And why so early in the morning? What time is it? It's 6. In the morning? No, at night. Shit. Where has the day gone? And when the fuck did I get a watch?

Why won't that knocking stop? I'm not home! Or can they see me? How would they see me? Maybe they saw me through the window. Shit, I knew I should've got a lot in the back. But no, she insisted! I had to buy this apartment! I just had to! It was too good of a deal to pass up!

Good deal my ass! This is probably my funereal. Shit! I didn't even get to ask.

Why won't that goddamn knocking stop? If you're going to kill me, be a man and break down that goddamn door!

I'm being a pussy cat. If I'm gonna be killed, it's best I face them myself. I may have fucked everything else up, but I'm not going to fuck this up.

No, I may have dropped out of college and lost my job and lost my car and borrowed a shirt ton of money and whimpered out on the only girl I've ever loved, but I'm not wimping out on this. No sir! I'm gonna do something for once in my life! And for once, I'm gonna go through with it! I'm going to answer that goddamn door, if it's the last thing I do!

"Chloe?"