please tell me those were fireworks

Last night at about 1 a.m., I was awoken by a series of loud bangs. It shook me out of sleep and before I even sat up I knew it must have been gun shots.

I appreciate that I tend to think every loud pop in our neighborhood is a gun firing, but this sound - followed my that of a car speeding away - was definitely gun shots.

I peaked out the window and saw nothing, and laid back in bed, thinking surely it was nothing. A few minutes later, I see the reflection of police car headlights blinking on my ceiling and I can hear the characteristic police issued car engine pull up the street and stop. Spitting distance from my window.

For the next few minutes I watched as several cops patted down two young men, who clearly were just walking by and had nothing to do with the shooting minutes before. After a while, the police let them go, peering around the street with a flashlight, and eventually driving off.

I guess I will never know what happened. Instead I went back to sleep asking myself, do I really live here? Sure, that scene could have played out on any other block in Washington, DC, but there is something extra shady about this neighborhood. The potential for crime - or for being in the wrong place at the wrong time - is palpable.