Silenced Errors

"Look, I'm sorry about the mess, buddy. But I don't have any money."

The man in blue-green holds up his hand to quiet me down. He's a handsome guy, with dark hair and a neat little beard. Black shoes, black pants, white shirt. The suit is a bit rumpled from being sat on the floor of the bar for an hour or so, but he's still neat. Still looks like he belongs in a nice office somewhere, not at all like someone who just broke into my house and is pointing a gun at me.

He cocks his head to one side and raises his eyebrows at me, genuinely curious. "You don't have any money?"

"No," I say. "I'm poor as shit. My money got eaten up by fixing my car, renting out my place, and paying off all my student loans." I sigh and tilt my beer towards him in salute. "I'm on fumes here, man."

"Huh," the man says again. He starts pacing around my living room, looking over things. It's not much -- old couch with ripped cushions that I found out back when I moved in, a coffee table with a center leg that wobbles if you lean back too far, the TV that I picked up at Goodwill last year when they were closing up shop. A dog bed next to the couch is where my dog is curled up sleeping -- she had her own snack while her human was gone, but she's not pleased he's been gone this long. She lifts her head and sets it down again with a huff as soon as she realizes it's just another stranger walking around her house and not her master returning home.

Concerned about what I'm going to do about the dog, the man continues to walk around me silently for a minute or so before finally reaching under his jacket for something in his waistband. He pulls out a phone and turns it on. It makes that annoying little beep-beep sound when it boots up, but once the screen comes on he puts it on silent and slips it back into its holster before putting the gun away again and sitting down across from me at the tiny kitchen table where we've been chatting for the past five minutes or so.

He lets out a breath as he sits down hard in the chair and leans forward with his elbows on the table top between us. That little sigh sounds tired to me -- maybe he's getting cold feet about shooting me?

"Tell me about your day," he says after taking another deep breath to calm himself down again.

"We've been having pancakes every Thursday since you were born," mom said proudly as she ladled batter onto each waiting griddle. "It was your father's idea -- back when we were first married our schedules didn't leave much time to cook proper meals together every day like we wanted to do, so we decided on something nice every Thursday morning to remind us both of how special we are to one another." She paused long enough to flip pancakes onto plates waiting next to her own cooking surface before continuing. "... And then you kids came along and changed our lives forever!" she added with a playful tone.

Dad laughed heartily at that remark. "You always had such great ideas when you were young! And now look how far we've all come since then! What would you say if I told you that your son has no job right now? That he might need to move back home because he can't afford rent?" Dad asked with a teasing tone while mom chuckled and finished cooking our meal without bothering to respond right away.

Finally, mom spoke up. "Well, that would be quite the predicament, wouldn't it? But you know what? We'd love to have you move back home if it came to that," she continued with warmth in her voice. Dad stared at her, surprised by her response, but quickly smiled and agreed with a nod.

"Well," he added thoughtfully, "except for the rent money part," he said with a small grin on his face. Mom playfully swatted him with her spatula, warning him not to say anything more about me needing money. Dad chuckled and kept quiet, deciding not to push his luck further. Instead, we sat down together as a family and enjoyed our special Thursday tradition - pancakes for breakfast, surrounded by love and understanding. Little did I know then that my circumstances would take an unexpected turn, landing me in my current predicament.