He snatched me up.
His grip was strong, crumpling my body into a ball.
"I'm going out for a smoke!"
He roared and stormed out the door.
He stuffed the crumpled me into his pants pocket.
The man stood under a streetlight outside his apartment building, took out a lighter, and lit a cigarette.
As the smoke swirled around him, his mood slowly began to settle.
He reached into his pocket and felt the wad of paper.
He pulled me out and smoothed me flat, little by little.
He re-examined every word on my surface.
"Hazardous Conditions in Public Municipal Infrastructure"
"Please provide a detailed description of the safety hazard you have identified"
"Every report you submit is the beginning of our efforts to improve the living environment in Pittsburgh and rebuild our home."
This last line of small text was printed in a handwritten font. It was Leo Wallace's handwriting.
Home.
The man stared at the word.
