where the heart is;

where the heart is;




its the last straw. i'm done. i'm over. i just can't take it anymore. with this gun
in my hand i vow never to speak again. never to see the sun rise or set. never
to dream of tomorrow. never to enjoy today. i vow to sleep an endless sleep of
death, rebirth, and everything in between. i don't belong here. i never did. and
with this blade, i promise to help you erase all memories of me. with this blade
i call the shots. i call it quits. i need to get out! i've got to get out of here. away
from the bullshit that i've been fed all of my life. the work hours that always
seem to lead to me coming back to this apartment. alone. i just... i can't...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxGUN SHOTS!

rang down all 15 flights of stairs. sounding over the yelling in the apartment next
door, silencing the cat in heat outside the victims window. he had to do it. he had
to die alone without ever knowing the love of anyone besides his goldfish murry.
to everyone in the apartment on 50th and Collins, John T. Fitz was a john doe. a
nobody who like everyone else kept to himself for the most part. he was never
destined to do much of anything except to sit behind a desk and calculate the
chances of his clientele hitting it big on wall street. but the day he died, the smell
of blood and raw meat, mingled with the curiosity floating about in the air. it occurred
to most of the tenants that they didn't even know they names of the people standing
in their doorways, watching the paramedics carry a body bag down the stairs, that they
didn't even recognize any of the faces around them, above them, beside them. most of
them had been living there for years and still they couldn't recall ever speaking one word
to their neighbors. now that was an odd thing. John T. Fitz had died to begin a small sort
of revolution for the apartment building. he made it so that most of the tenants had some-
thing in common. they'd all experienced their first suicide and that alone sparked the fuse
that would soon develop quite a wonderful firework show of new found friendship, love, and
would definitely give new meaning to the term neighbor.

CAN I BORROW SOME SUGAR?