"We invited him for lunch. He said little this time, and we were concerned that he was suffering from some sort of mental collapse. Then, towards the end, he said he was not feeling safe in his apartment, that threats were being made against him. He did not elaborate. We invited him home with us that night for dinner. He ended up staying in one of our spare bedrooms. In the morning he would leave at the crack of dawn, only to return early in the evenings. He didn't say a lot. Usually he would sit and watch TV with us, He did enjoy making popcorn and drenching it with butter.
"In the meantime, our own delicate balance was being affected. Jennifer wanted him to leave. Sarah was adamant that he stay with us. Me, I was neutral, sort of. One night, we were watching Schitt's Creek, our favourite program, Then there was a knock on the door, a loud imperious banging. I got up to see who it was. I couldn't see anyone through the peephole. I called out through the closed door, but no one answered.
I returned to the family room. Jean Pierre looked visibly shaken. The others wanted to know who it was, and truthfully, I replied that there didn't appear to be anyone there. Jean Pierre seemed to just shrink into himself, like a snail retiring inside its shell.
About twenty minutes later, there was another knock on the door. This time no one got up to answer it. Jean Pierre excused himself and went up to bed. Then we turned off the TV, and huddled together to pray..."
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