this morning #1507.
this morning, after discovering that town hall didn’t even have a deed on file for the family’s home, my excitement had slid sideways into a state of enthusiastic confusion. what could it even mean? in a matter of days, i’d unwittingly become immersed in a tall tale of intricate intrigue. arson. nazis. fake identities. a stream of seemingly unrelated pieces spread out around me. i set up a meeting with the neighbor to see if what i’d found sparked any memories. arrived around noon. rang the bell. once. twice. called his name. nothing. called him. voicemail. walked out back. shades drawn. car on the lawn. i stepped onto the porch & over a mountain of empties. found him, gun in hand, passed out behind a couch.