9.1

by Kelvin Smith

Something someone somewhere doesn’t want you to know might be found by knowing when to point and click, with a trigger or a mouse, how to make a change, react to the word culture.

Looking back, things become more obvious, so long as we have stored the memories somehow; in the mind, memoranda, handwritten between the covers of a journal, pecked out on a small keyboard or printed in a public volume.

Firing point blank. Certain to hit the target. Didn’t have a chance.  Or more often, much more often, a cat and mouse game, stalking, waiting around, hoping tonight will be the night.