I was awake (sort of) when the doorbell rang at 6:18am. I wasn’t too startled, since the wiring in our building has been flaky for years. I often hear my buzzer loud and clear when it isn’t for me at all. I wasn’t expecting anyone, that’s for sure. Or it could have been a prankster or a key-losing neighbor; I figured that the latter would have hit every buzzer and, if they didn’t get in on the first try, ring again and I would have yawned and stretched enough to drag my ass out of bed and attend to them.

Several minutes later, I heard what sounded like someone trying to break through a door on my floor. I heard glass shattering (couldn’t tell at first if it was the tiny hallway window or the homoerotic photograph that my neighbors have displayed on a hidden wall—having moved it several months ago from the wall that is visible to the then-five-year-old girl who lives upstairs—outside their door) and voices shouting, “Open the door! Open the door…”

I dialed nine-one-one. Break-in… banging… shouts… “When did this happen?” Just now, as I dialed the phone. “What does the person look like? White, Black, Hispanic, male, female?” The person breaking in? I don’t know, I’m cowered at the other end of my apartment. “So, you don’t really know that it’s a break-in?”

Hmm. Strange response from a nine-one-one operator. Does she not believe me? Like I would call her up and lie to her at this ungodly hour of the morning?

No, I guess I don’t *know* that it’s a break-in. But I heard a lot of commotion in the hallway and it frightened me and …

I remembered that the voice in the hallway did not shout “Open the door! Open the door!”
It shouted, “Open the door! Open the door, SIR!” Why would a criminal use a term of respect?

… and I thought the police should know about it. “The police will be there, ma’am.” Perhaps the police were already here.

Yeah, five minutes later a squad car pulled up, and three minutes after that, they drove away.

I heard voices in the hallway, speaking in normal conversational tones. I tiptoed (think Clara in The Nutcracker—it’s my apartment, I can stage-walk through it if I want to) to the door to eavesdrop. Couldn’t hear enough to make full sense; although I did hear the word “mistake.” I peeked through the peephole and saw a man in profile. He wore a baseball hat and blue jacket. He turned away from me. His jacket had the words, “STATE POLICE” on the back.

And now, everything seems quiet again: my neighbor just returned from walking his dog. A little late, though. He usually goes out around 6:15am.