Apostrophe

"Were coming for you" was all that the note said. He hadn't seen who had delivered it, but it didn't matter. It had probably just been shoved through the letterbox by some kid anyway, the note in one sweaty palm, a crisp five in the other.

It wasn't a warning, it was an announcement, and serenity breezed over him more than any other feeling when he read it. He was relieved that the waiting was finally over, that at last, one way or another, this unbearable situation would be resolved.

He thought about whether he should go for the gun in the drawer. He thought about whether his son would find the letter he'd written. He thought about the fact that the cat would need feeding. His thoughts waxed and waned until only the most banal remained in his mind and, as the front door caved inwards in an explosion of splinters, all he could think about was that missing apostrophe.

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