My new work in progress. Enjoy!

​

Meet Hillman.

​

He's had a run of bad luck in recent days. HIs long career in banking ended with an unexpected downsizing and someone quite a bit younger with a lower salary taking his place. Not long after the first setback, his wife of similar years of love and effort left him for her tennis partner. Meanwhile, his daughter Hillary, an emo barista with no interest in college or to his view, any semblance of a "normal life". To make matters worse, Hillman is a writer whose latest book was a no-go with his agent and editor. The sense of loss in the old brick home near Lee Circle on Monument Avenue is just as palpable as the amped-up feeling of unrest amongst the protesters marching in the humid summer air.

​

The protesters pouring down his street are a remarkable sight, an amoeba like mass moving towards the monument, their destination since the death of the black man in Minneapolis. The chants, the signs, the sweat, and police presence makes for a grand parade and Hillman is mesmerized, looking out from the relative safety of his front window in the post-Civil War era home.

​

Hillman is not sure what he feels about the protest or protestors, his concerns closer to home. He' misses his brother Hilton, the two growing up in the monument's shadow. They give him a sense of comfort and never changing. Where is Hilton when he needs him?  The protesters do have a point he supposes, having to live under a symbol of slavery everyday of their lives. Hillman decides it's a bit much to solve in one day, turning back to cool, darkened hallway and the 1930's jazz from his stereo, He moves to the kitchen and a menu for the soup and bread he will make later in the day to sustain him and Hillary. 

​

The protests and participants will pull him from his cozy home, thrusting him and his family into the maelstrom of the times and circumstances, ready or not.

​