p align="LEFT""It's been 2 days since the tomb of Alexander Hamilton has been broken into, and his body stolen." The reporter continued with more details, while I just shook my head and thought,"Those "Hamilton" are really obsessive. Wonder what they are doing with the body…".I'm here with New York City police chief Alan Richards". Richards shuffled and looked at the camera, he looked quite creeped out. I imagined, span style="font-weight: normal;"being NYC's police chief, /spanhe must have seen many a creepy case. For this event to stand out... "There hasn't been a single bit of evidence, no hint of forced entry, no witnesses, the video...just a blank white light...during the time the body was removed. If anybody has any...". My attention to his pleas was interrupted by a thumping at the door./p
p align="LEFT" /p
p align="LEFT"Hmmm...I wandered over to said door, and started to open it while asking, "Who is it?". Then I gasped as I saw the oddly dressed but strangely familiar person standing on my porch. He started brushing dust off of his clothing as if he were engaging in a long, annoying, intermittent task. "Alexander Hamilton", he said, well, we kind of said in kind of a unison. "Um, come in.", I said as I stepped aside, "Come in". Hamilton stepped inside, his attitude was quite brave, it seemed to me. He briefly studied every item on the wall and on the tables and floor as he made it to the center of the room. He paused as he read the calendar, "2019. Indeed. Much time has passed.". I wasn't sure if I should touch him or not, so I just pointed to the sofa, "Have a seat. Can I get you something?". Settling into the sofa, and still scanning the room, he asked for brandy. "Sure." He was quite handsome, reminded me of an elegant version of my boyfriend's brother./p
p align="LEFT" /p
p align="LEFT""Your name? Where am I?", he asked, as he grimaced at little, tugging his side with his hand. I assumed that was where he had been shot, and it was still hurting a bit ./p
p align="LEFT" /p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT""Los Angeles, it's a newer city.", I fumbled, trying to think of what I should have said. Given a history lesson? "Is there something else I can get you?"./p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT" /p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT""May I speak with the owner?"./p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT" /p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT"If silence made a sound it would have been a booming thunder at that moment. The booming was dismissed by my, "I am the owner."./p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT" /p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT""Ah," he smiled to me and himself, "Negros and women owning homes. Much has changed in the 215 years since I was shot."/p
p align="LEFT" /p
p align="LEFT"Hmmm...I wandered over to said door, and started to open it while asking, "Who is it?". Then I gasped as I saw the oddly dressed but strangely familiar person standing on my porch. He started brushing dust off of his clothing as if he were engaging in a long, annoying, intermittent task. "Alexander Hamilton", he said, well, we kind of said in kind of a unison. "Um, come in.", I said as I stepped aside, "Come in". Hamilton stepped inside, his attitude was quite brave, it seemed to me. He briefly studied every item on the wall and on the tables and floor as he made it to the center of the room. He paused as he read the calendar, "2019. Indeed. Much time has passed.". I wasn't sure if I should touch him or not, so I just pointed to the sofa, "Have a seat. Can I get you something?". Settling into the sofa, and still scanning the room, he asked for brandy. "Sure." He was quite handsome, reminded me of an elegant version of my boyfriend's brother./p
p align="LEFT" /p
p align="LEFT""Your name? Where am I?", he asked, as he grimaced at little, tugging his side with his hand. I assumed that was where he had been shot, and it was still hurting a bit ./p
p align="LEFT" /p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT""Los Angeles, it's a newer city.", I fumbled, trying to think of what I should have said. Given a history lesson? "Is there something else I can get you?"./p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT" /p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT""May I speak with the owner?"./p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT" /p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT"If silence made a sound it would have been a booming thunder at that moment. The booming was dismissed by my, "I am the owner."./p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT" /p
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="LEFT""Ah," he smiled to me and himself, "Negros and women owning homes. Much has changed in the 215 years since I was shot."/p