" A poem? You gave it to her?" Sure."Anita's eyes were wide and her mouth was open. "Well, what did she do?"I shrugged. "She cried." She... cried?" Yes. You know, a little tear, right here. Just a little one. Then she said thank you and we went to a movie."Anita stared at me, leaning against the back of her chair.I finished, "And that's all there was to it."She said slowly, amused, incredulous, "Is this a true story?" Cross my heart."She leaned forward, still not recovering, and said, checking me out, "And then you... went to the movies." Yeah." I continued attacking my delicious ice cream.Anita propped her elbows on the table and her eyes wandered while she thought about something, and she sipped her coffee and said, looking down at her cup, softly, "So you're the type who writes poems."That sounded a little ominous. I thought: Congratulations, idiot, you just blew her away. She hates guys who write poems.She murmured into her coffee cup. "Well... that's so nice. A poem that made her. As I searched, I heard a group of footsteps approaching me. I turned around and watched as four men approached me. I recognized one to be my neighbor from the apartment two floors below me. Although it was dark, I knew it was him. What was he doing in the alley this time of night? I stood still as they approached me. I started to think about running away but my body wouldn't move. I was afraid, but I didn't move an inch. My neighbor grabbed my arm. "Hey there neighbor. It's late. You shouldn't be alone out here," he cautioned me. I simply nodded and pulled my keys from my purse. The men circled me and one reached and grabbed my other arm. They were pulling me to another alley. I began to scream and kick but another man covered my mouth with tape. My screams were muffled as I was laid on a bed of thin blankets. There was one light above me, almost directly. Behind me, a brick wall. In front of me, four men. We were in between two windowless bank buildings now. I was helpless. The men.
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