It’s so lucky, he thought, that the house backs into a small forest. A burglar such as himself appreciates a place to take cover if a job goes south. Though waiting in a dark forest with woodland creatures isn’t necessarily fun. Just one of the occupational hazards.
He watched as the last light in the house clicked off, then a few seconds later heard the muffled sound of a car door closing. He waited a few beats, then headed towards the house for a quick smash and grab. These country homes are easy targets. He broke the little window by the back door and let himself in. He clicked on his small flashlight, took a quick look around, then spotted a desk in a corner. It looked like a good place to start.
Opening drawers quickly, he looked for cash, electronics, and anything else valuable. The last drawer he checked contained a plain brown envelope, stuffed with what definitely felt like cash. Normally, he would’ve just tucked the envelope in his jacket and continued with his little raid, but for some odd reason, he felt the need to open it. Sure enough, it was full with must have been thousands of dollars, all $100 bills, then his gloved fingers slid over a smooth surface. An old photograph.
He was about to throw the photo on the desk and take just the cash, but he stopped cold. Though the flashlight only shined on it for a second, he knew it was familiar. The photo was taken in the early 1980s, obvious by the hideous clothes and hair. A man with a thin mustache and a Miami Vice pastel linen suit had his arm around a small boy of about five.
The lucky burgler was all of a sudden feeling not so lucky. He didn’t know the man, but the little boy in the photo was him. So, that begs the question, whose house did he just rob?
This is a mini story I wrote during the class I was taking that I wrote about in the previous post, and I’m proud to say I finished it! I think tomorrow I will start a new class, just to help keep my writing flowing. I like the accountability of a class.