A homeless thief breaks into a house that has nothing worth stealing - except for the heart of a lonely man who is obsessed with time.
*****
Blake has been living on the streets for...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-Blake-
I spent the next couple of days watching the house and its resident; the cliff being a perfect hiding place for me to do so. I could see almost everything they did, and as time passed, I became sure it was the perfect house for my plan.
While I was hiding in the woods, I learned the house belonged to a middle-aged couple and their three daughters. The man in the house had to be a doctor. I spotted him coming home one night, and when he stepped out of the car, he looked like he was half asleep already. He'd been wearing a nice jacket and a tie, but also a set of green, disposable pants – the ones people in hospitals used – and he had a stethoscope hanging around his neck. Almost like he'd forgotten to change half of his clothes. I didn't need to be a genius to connect the dots.
The lady of the house seemed much sharper than her husband. Her blonde hair was always in a tight bun, and she wore knee-length skirts and dressing shirts under a nice, navy-blue jacket. She looked like a CEO or a politician, and she always had a frown on her face every time she came into my view.
Two of their daughters seemed between fifteen and eighteen, both of them looking like the rich girls always did: spoiled. The older one had sneaked out on Tuesday night with no one noticing. I wanted to know how she got out of the neighborhood, but I decided not to follow her this time. If I knew anything about rebellious teenagers, it was that they would sneak out again. I knew there was a third girl too – I'd heard a conversation between the two younger sisters as they talked about her. Apparently, the oldest one wasn't living with them, so she was irrelevant to me.
I'd seen other people in the house twice as well, and I made sure to write down when they arrived and how long they stayed. There was this older man who came to visit almost every morning, bringing groceries with him. I assumed he was some sort of butler, since he often stayed in the house for a long time, helping around, fixing things, making phone calls, and even opening the door for visitors. I'd spotted a gardener too, a young male who took care of the lawn and the fabulous flowers and plants on the property. A cleaner also dropped by every day, staying around one hour every morning.
It all just screamed wealth. Money. Jewels. All kinds of valuables. The luxurious life. It was the perfect target for me.
On Wednesday night, I left the neighborhood. I'd been roaming around the forest in the morning, and I found a better place to climb over the fence. It was close to my small camping site, and if I was reading my map right, it was closer to the center of the city. After I'd climbed over the fence, it took me a while before I found the bike I borrowed. Once I had pulled it up from its hiding place, I returned to the road, making sure no one saw me, and started driving towards downtown.
I may have found my target, but I still had a lot of things to do.
