I woke up to find them standing around my bed. Five old Hispanic men, dressed in black and grey pinstriped zoot suits, their faces like elephants. Four of them stood to either side of the bed, hands together at the waist. The last and tallest of the group stood at the foot of the bed. He lifted his gaze from the pocket watch in his hand, acknowledged my bewildered stare, then proceed to return the dangling chain of his watch, and the watch itself to his breast pocket. My eyes flitted between sleep and wakefulness. When they fully opened, the men were still there. The tall one raised his wiry arms above his head to help coerce the abnormally lengthy chain back into his breast pocket. When it had disappeared back into his pocket, he gave a nod to the pairs of men on each side of my bed, and then to me. The men backed away from the bed to give me space to maneuver. With hesitation, I returned my book to my bedside table–a novel about a bizarre trial–and left my bed to head towards the bathroom.
As I washed up a perplexed face stared at me beyond the mirror. When the haze of sleep finally lifted I recognized it as my own. I dried myself off and tried to reconcile what I had seen. I entered my living room, and as I did I caught a glimpse of the men leaving. The tall one firmly held the door to my fifth story apartment open as the other four exited. He then turned the lower lock and pulled the door shut and he departed.