Attacked

It was 7:07 in the morning when the attack began. It sounded as though a rocket had been launched in my backyard. Swoosh, boom! then roar, and finally a long reverberation.

It is a pernicious sound that grates on you; it is hard to imagine one worse. Most often, it is a loud or low rumble. Each one is an assault in its own right. It is never the same and the threat at every waking, or trying to sleep, hour.

In my view it evokes classlessness, you know, those content with living on the other side of the tracks, let alone right up against them. I am ashamed.

Simple things, like going to the garage or turning off the sprinkler require headphones. Sleeping must be done alongside a loud fan; in fact, a fan and TV should be kept on at all times. Barbecuing or sitting outside is out of the question.

The attacker of course knows it, for something this bold is not without precedent, planning, and preparation, i.e., intention, which is a long story too for the attacked to tell. It is a fairly simple legal case, when the evidence is this clear, and I’ll get to that too. Anyway, for the perpetrator, it is as if there is no going over the top: it is never too much. Like an airplane, that leaves a trail.

At its very core, it is one of those defining moments in life that you live the whole time leading up to. Are you capable of dealing with it? That is only a start. The real question is whether or not you are a person who just takes it or if you are someone who stands up to it.

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