Is This Happiness

Prologue

It was half-past eleven on a Friday night. And as per usual, music played softly from my small speaker. Afraid that my parents would wake and throw it from the window, I kept it down.

My eyes became heavier to keep open. I give in to sleep of course. Although it doesn't last long.

My body jerks awake to the sound of yelling voices from outside of my window. Propping up on my arms quickly as one would. Even finding my phone to pause the playing music.
I was totally thinking that I was tripping, and that I would hear nothing, no. It was something. I made my way closer the window, stupidly.

Brooklyn is known for it's all-nighters. Well, my block at least. The open bar around the block was a tourist attraction for only locals.
Many drunken people used the alleyway below my window as a shortcut to the bar. It was nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary.

Leaning onto the window, I peer out. Glancing at a group of people standing around a single man. Cries erupt from the center as one person raised their arm. I watch as his gun is being lifted to the begging mans head. Immediately, falling backwards onto my feet. My eyes widen hearing one last plead with a gunshot that followed.

Frozen where I stood. A foreign language is spoken, echoing before the silence. I was frozen in place, I couldn't think. My awful attempt of breathing causes a loud heave to leave my lips.

I inches forward slowly to close the window. And the latch did me no favors of being quiet. My only and immediate thought was to just.. leave.

I grabbed a blanket from my chair and walked down the stairs slow as possible to avoid creaks. The living room couch was my bed for the night, for the next couple of nights. Little did I know it wouldn't matter. Because either way I was seen closing that loud ass window.

I was a witness, and witnesses get stitches.

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