Jonas stumbled into his front door, panting for breath. His heart was still racing, having ran the last four blocks home, stopping only when crossing the street at a light, desperate to avoid further police attention. The soda had been drained and left in a bus stop trash can, the cheap trucker hat nearly pulled free from his head by the self made wind of his dash. Door slammed shut behind him, deadbolt twisted like a ward against the Evil Eye, he finally let his mind wander back to the last half hour.

“JONAS! You home? Where’s my M&Ms?”

Leticia came around the corner, finger pointing. “Jonas, what the hell, slamming the door like that? Where are my.” She came skidding to a stop, physically and verbally, her brother still clutching the door jamb behind him, staring into the distance and panting, his breathing finally slowing and growing more shallow. She waved her hand, snapping her fingers twice until he focused on her and followed her fingers back to her hand, her arms, her face.

He blinked a few times, looking around. “Leticia?” Standing up, he reached into the pocket of his jacket, hanging around his waist, and pulled out a small bag, chucking it at her. She caught it on reflex as it slammed into her chest. “Here’s your damn M&Ms. I almost got shot by the fucking cops getting them!”

From the living room they both heard their mother shouting. “JONAS! LANGUAGE YOUNG MAN!” A moment later there was a crash and she came hobbling around the corner, cane slamming into the ground as she stopped against the wall, grimacing in pain that was shoved aside for concern. “Shot by the police? My baby, my baby, are you okay? What happened?” She paused for a moment, looking at his head, before snatching the hat off it. “And why the hell you wearing that dumb ass hat?”

Jonas started to reply, opening his mouth, but the words were crushed out of him along with his air as him mother grabbed him in a bear hug, squeezing hard before suddenly crying out in pain and letting go, one hand on her back.

“Momma, momma, I’m okay. Here, lets get you back to your chair.” Jonas took her hand and started to walk her back. “Let, can you heat up the beanbag?” Leticia nodded and darted into the kitchen, bag of chocolate thudding to the table with a muffled rattle. Jonas helped his mother to her chair, holding her hands as she slowly lowered into it. He could hear the beeping of the microwave being set, and the loud hum as it turned on. She mumbled and groaned lightly for a couple minutes, until the ding announced the cloth bag full of dried corn was ready. Leticia came into the living room with it and placed it against their mother’s back while Jonas helped her lean forward, then back against the warmth. Jonas sank into the couch while Leticia stood, glaring at him.

“Jonas, you have about ten seconds to start talking before”

Jonas raised both hands, “Whoa whoa whoa, I’m talking, I’m…” He stopped suddenly, looking at his hands, and dropped them to his lap. He looked down and to the side for a moment, eyes shut tight.

“Jonas baby?”

His eyes snapped back open and he gave his mom a wan smile. “Sorry, I’m okay, I… “ He shook his head, clearing away the linger shock as best he could. “I was walking back from the corner store, eating a beef stick. And…”

He faded out again, mind stuck back to the image of the guns pointing at him, the ragged thoughts, the desire not to die, the fleeting thought of, ‘at least don’t piss yourself, don’t make no one clean that up’. The drones in the sky and the holographic message.

He reached the end of his memory and realized that he must have been talking the whole time, saying it out loud. Let and his mother were staring at him in horror and shock. Letitica had the hat he had bought in her hands, wringing it silently. She looked down at her hands and barked a laugh. “Well, that at least explains your shitty choice in headgear, Tiny.” She held it up for him to see the big W emblazoned on the hat. “I know you like the Waszkiewicz Beef Sticks, but being a corporate billboard just ain’t your style.”

He reached out and took it from her, laughing. “Damn. I got like one bite of it too.”

His mother was so stunned, she forgot to chide him for swearing. “Flying cop lights, holograms? What in the world. Do... Do you think that made the news?”

Let and Jonas groaned as she pulled the remote from a pocket of her chair, clicking on the TV. Jonas looked at his sister as their mother began flicking channels. “Hey, thanks.”

“For what?”

“Those spy stories you used to read me at bed time. I thought, what would Bourne do? So I changed my outfit a little, put a hat on, bought a soda. Walked past two more cop cars, they didn’t give me a second glance. Thanks.”

Let reached down and tweaked his ear. “Well, thanks for not getting shot. Momma needs us both, and dad getting shot at is more than enough for one family.”

Jonas grinned in spite of himself and groan. “Please, dad never got shot at. Closest he comes to bullets is pulling them out of Apache engines.”

“Hush, they’re talking about drones, this might be you baby.”