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...
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-Jordan-
I wasn't sure if I was in my right mind when I invited Blake in my room. I couldn't concentrate at all, and I was constantly on the verge of freaking out. Blake was sitting on my couch, pretending to read a book, but he hadn't turned a new page in a while. I knew he was a slow reader, but not that slow.
It was really weird to see another person in my living room. That had never happened before, but it wasn't the only reason why I was feeling so breathless and dizzy all the time. Blake was reading a book. A book. I had given him permission to read it, but...
"It's all right..." I muttered, looking away from him. "It doesn't matter."
"What?" he asked, startling me.
"It's nothing..."
"Is this too much? This is too much, isn't it?"
"No..." I uttered taking another deep breath.
"I should go," he said, standing up.
"No! It's not...! Sit down, please..." I spoke, hating my high-pitched voice.
"This is making you really uneasy," he noted. "I shouldn't be here."
"No, it's not you," I muttered and leaned my head against the desk. I tried to concentrate on my breathing, but I was getting overwhelmed. "It's the book."
Blake was silent for a moment. I was sure he was staring at the book with a frown on his face. "The book...? Oh!"
I turned to look at him. He was staring at the book, and then walked to the bookcase, putting it back to where he had taken it.
"Is this better?"
I let out a long, relieved sigh. "Yes, thank you... Sorry..." I said with a shy smile.
"You did well," he said with a smile. "I had that book for almost an hour. I'm sorry I took it in the first place."
How did he see that? How did he know I was freaking out because the book wasn't where it was supposed to be? I was amazed. I could only stare at him. Then I realized I was actually staring at him, and I started to feel more nervous.
"I'm getting so confused right now," I muttered, turning my back on him again.
"Should I leave?"
"I don't want you to leave," I said with a sad voice.
"I'll be just outside, like always," he said tenderly. "This was a huge step for you. If I stay any longer, you'll start feeling bad, and next time you might not be able to let me in again."
I had to admit that he was probably right.
"With a brain like yours, you should be robbing banks, not people's wallets," I said eventually. "How did you know that the book was getting me anxious?"
