Damoclean Fear

Leaving my residence at 8:45 this morning, I noticed that a fellow tenant's car had been burglarized. Through word of mouth, I've become aware of the increasing problem of the "smash and grab" in my parking garage, but this was my first witnessing of the carnage.

As I moved in to take the picture, I stepped lightly on the black tinted class. I could feel the small charcoal ice cubes crack underneath my sneakers like I was walking on a half-frozen lake. I imagined slivers of my neighbor's peace of mind lodging in the grooves of my shoes.

Worst case scenario: something irreplaceable was pilfered. Best case scenario: several hundred dollars to replace the glass. But the best case scenario still seems like a pretty terrible circumstance.

Even though I have nothing of value in my 10-year-old car, I still feel violated by these criminals and their selfishness. I thought about sleeping next to my car with a bat, crazily protecting my property like an eccentric man waiting for raccoons to steal his garbage. But I can't spend my life defending my car.

I guess I just need faith—faith that the fools will inflict emotional and financial damage on someone other than me. That sounds selfish, but what else can I realistically ask for?

How can these thugs be so brutal? I don't care about my car in the physical sense, but I am going crazy thinking about my car in the abstract sense. Did I lock it? Did I park in enough light? Is someone smashing my window right now? If I go to the garage right now, can I prevent the crime from taking place?

Don't you miscreants understand? When you choose to steal under the cover of anonymity, you are forcing a paralyzing Damoclean fear onto my life. Food tastes flat, women appear dull, books seem uninteresting—all because I'm frightened of what you may or may not be doing from the shadows.

Must you hang a sword over my mind?