A neighborhood of two-story suburban houses. There was a blizzard. It was nighttime.
The snow went all the way to the roofs of the houses. Beneath the sallow light of streetlamps, some of the neighbors were shoveling snow off their roofs.
In a house at the end of the street was a family with two adolescent daughters.
There were four other men in the house. Two were known to the family. Two were strangers.
Workmen, perhaps? Friends or acquaintances of the other two?
I was one of the two men known to the family.
It was decided the four of us would go onto the roof to shovel snow.
As we were about to leave the house, the mother made a comment about finding blood on one of the daughter’s sheets. The budding daughter/woman went off mortified.
I glanced at one of the strangers, a Hispanic man with a moustache. He had a gleam in his eye.
Before we left the house, I fell or was pushed onto the floor. A voice came from behind.
“Let’s fucking do this thing.”
I thought he was talking about shoveling.
Turning, I saw a gun pointed down at me. I glanced toward the person I knew. He was in on it.
They were going to have some fun.
I woke up.
I stayed awake a long time.