Vere, very quiet

...

I climb over the back fence. Land with a low thud on the ground. I don’t make much sound, barely a whisper against the storm roaming around me. I move slowly forward, carefully. A steady pace. I reach the house, bend my silhouette and slide against the wall.

First I check the windows. There’s no light and I notice no movement. I look around without any rush and then check the locks on the windows. One by one, they’re all closed. All, except one. Just like I left it. Slightly pushed to the right. I smile. Then check the front door. Obviously locked.

I’m not surprised. I look at the ground and notice foot marks. Another smile. This time it’s more satisfied. Amateurs. I round the house and slip through the little window close to the ground. I jump down, reaching the floor of the basement without any problem. I’ve done this before.

I walk to the stairs after a quick look. It’s empty. I take two steps at a time. My instincts telling me I'm alone. Still, I stay careful. Just in case. A necessity in my profession,

a must. I walk slowly past the small corridor. The moonlight slipping between the clouds and sending beams of bright light through the thin glass. It’s the only source of light in the otherwise dark house. Empty.

I get to the living room and stare at the bare walls. Look at the mattress lying on the raw, sandy wooden floor and my eyes drift to a big, tall mirror set against a plain, white wall. No colors, no heavy or fluffy rugs. No mayhem. Just the simplicity. That’s how I preferred it.

Easier to control, easier to leave behind.