My Southern Neighborhood, Part Four

Post-flood realities, crack houses and neighborhood decay

Our dogs barked every night around 3 a.m. Thinking it was just a bad dream, we ignored it. *photo loc.gov

Woke up to frantic knocking on door. Opened it to find Austin with a buzz hair cut sporting a tiny green fedora, jauntily placed on the left side of his head, just above his ear — held on with an elastic band. He’s our next door neighbor, around 27 years old. It was St. Patrick’s Day.