He’s yelling again. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Paul said. Where does he get the energy? Just loud. As if I were the only one here.

What’s he yelling about? Ben asked.

Not sure. But I can barely hear you. You’ll have to speak louder, Paul told Ben.

I hear him, too. All that foul language. What’s he like?

I’ve seen him only once, Paul responded. He’s big. Really big. I’d say around six feet three. About two-fifty.

That is big. Ever talked to him? In the hallway? Getting the mail?

Once. At first, he just looked at me. Took me all in. I said hello. He stood there in silence at first. Nodded. Said, hi. He looked angry. Mad at the world. Seemed like he had something taken from him. His pride. Dignity, Paul whispered.  Maybe he lost his wife. A loved one. Who knows. You never can tell about these things.

Right.

The screaming stopped. No more sound coming from next door.

Hear that? Paul asked.

What?

Nothing. Nothing at all. Paul placed the phone up against the wall. He’s just stopped. No more yelling. No more rambling. Listen. He placed the receiver against the wall again. Quiet.

Paul was still. Ben was not speaking.

Gun shots were fired.