He had almost not answered the door…the knock had been too hurried.  He felt himself in a motion too slow to catch up to anything that demanded complete and immediate attention.  He had energy enough for gazing upon a resting dog or cat, or upon people moving about the street below, or even at his coffee mug as the coffee in it got sipped, but he couldn’t ignore that the more insistent knock he had been expecting hadn’t followed.  Only silence had ensued from that initial knock.  He looked out the window, hoping for something to catch his eye and stop him, but it was to the door he went.  He knew that in his mind two or more hurried knocks meant a furor, but one all on its own had to be pain.