Fiction Aliaksei Smalenski May 2 0 1 7 9 3 Post Traumatic By Wren Pearson C all 911. I think I’m going to kill someone.” Jeff was prone to exaggeration. I walked the length of the parking lot to his apartment. He was standing on the curb, staring at my approach. “Did you call?” “No. I’m not calling 911 without know- ing why.” He glared at me. “A guy at the bar was getting in my face. He kept pushing me, shooting off his mouth. I left, but it’s not going away, so call 911 and tell them to send the fucking cops before I end up hurting you, too.” He’d never threatened me before. I was his consigliere. We took care of each other. I dialed the number. As I tried to explain the situation to the operator, Jeff kept interrupting. “Tell them to send the cops now!” The operator repeatedly asked if I were being threatened. Was I in danger? She wouldn’t listen to the backstory. They both kept talking over me. I set the phone down, not knowing what to do. “Stay on the fucking line!” Jeff hollered at me. “You don’t hang up!” A fire truck was the first to arrive. High up in the cab, the two occupants looked down on the scene. Jeff stormed to the engine as the uni- forms descended. “So what’s going on here?” the woman asked from the step of the truck while the driver rounded the front. Her tone was dis-