Fractals

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Trespassing? Trespassing? You arrogant slant-eyed alien motherfucker, I used to live here!

How long have I wanted to do that? How many years have I hated them, dreamt that my fists were smashing those faces into shapes even less human? I can’t remember. The anger is chronic. The anger has always been chronic. And impotent, until now. The pain in my knuckles throbs like a distant badge of honour.

It’s cold.

The rage is gone, absorbed somehow by the mud and the unlit piles of lumber and masonry scattered around me. I can barely focus on my surroundings. The shapes keep changing, hulking angular monstrosities shifting on all sides. Only the sign at the front of the lot, the sign he kept pointing at, refuses to move.

I can barely see him in the dark. He’s just a few meters away, but the shadows are so black and he doesn’t move at all. What if I killed him? What if I—

There. He moved a bit. It’s okay, I didn’t kill him, he’s not dead—

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