I don’t. I came all the way in here and I’m going to go all the way. I’ll always wonder if I don’t, and coming back to finish something like this will always get you caught. You gotta go with something while the luck holds. You gotta be feeling it. Can’t force it. That’s how you loose your house at the casino. You always try to force it, knowing deep inside that something doesn’t feel right. I head back to the bedroom feeling more bold now. I walk up to the sliding closet doors. I just do it. No time to think. I have a feeling like time is starting to run out though. I don’t know. Sometimes you get a feeling about something.

You ever head into the kitchen and you get there right when the microwave goes off and your hotdogs are ready? It’s a feeling like that. I got a little time left, but those hotdogs are plumping up. It’s like I figured. Nothing inside the closet other than a few cheap metal clothes hangers. Left behind, just like the poor soap. If the people who made the soap and the clothes hangers knew what became of their products, do you think they would be sad to see them in such a way? All Dusty and forgotten in a maniac’s apartment? Would they want them back?

I push back out into the hallway. It’s time. I do like before. This knob is the same as the one on the bedroom door. Nice and solid. the anticipation is killing me and I force myself not to just blast on through the door. Can't get too comfortable yet. Up with the knob again, push with the door again, still no creaking hinges. God I’m good at this. I practiced enough at my own apartment, but Goddamn, this is easier that I thought it would be. I’m the best cat burglar. Or something. Whatever I’m doing. I’m not here to steal. I’m not a stealer. I just want to know what the hell is going on. I’m curious.

I stand at the threshold of this room. I don’t hear anything, even after standing there for a long time. There’s some light leaking in the room front the hallway since I left those lights on in the bathroom and the bedroom, so I can see in a little bit, only it’s just a narrow sliver of light, hitting the wall at the end of the room and bouncing around some before it comes to rest on the carpet. That’s how lights work, right? Like fast moving water?

I push in all the way, flipping on the light as I go. There’s nothing in here. Nothing really. No bed, no drafting table or whatever goes in a study. Bookshelves. No bookshelves, no bed, no drafting table, no wall hangings or certificates. This is boring. I’m going home. I flip off all the lights and head on toward the front door. I still have that feeling like my hotdog is almost done, but not quite. Just a sliver of time left. Just enough to check the fridge.

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I’m not walking quiet any more so I get there pretty quick. I open the door and I’m not surprised. There’s an open box of baking soda on the top shelf. I check the expiration date and it says two years ago. That means something. You know how long baking soda is good for? It’s good for like, forever, but even it has an expiration date. Tongue depressors have an expiration date. Did you know that? They’re made out of wood and even they have an expiration date. This baking soda has been in here a long time.

There’s a circle of some long lost liquid on the middle shelf. Looks like someone put a cup of juice there and it splashed out a little, making a perfect red ring. That looks like something a kid would do. Makin’ a mess and not wiping the juice ring before it turns to sap in the refrigerator. Shameless. I shake my head. My refrigerator doesn’t have rings in it. I would never allow for such a thing.

I close the refrigerator door and head for the exit, stepping over the footstool in the dark as I go. Walked right over it, no sweat. I’m the best at this. Fuck yeah. I reach out to grab the knob of the front door. I hear a beeping sound in my head. My hotdogs are done cooking. I misjudged. I take it back. I’m not the best at this. I’m fucked. The knob is rattling from the other side now. I take a step back. Should I rush out when it opens? Give whoever is there an element of the ‘ol surprise? Hoof it home before they even know what just ran past them?

Should I give them a bonk on the head like in the movies and knock them out? Does that work? I might just end up missing and hitting the wall or something. I hear a key in the lock. I freeze. I hear the key turning. Time for plan three. Scootin’. I hop the footstool in the dark again. I’m not hiding in those rooms or in the bathroom. There’s nothing to hide under or behind unless I held up the bedside table and pretended I was either considering buying it, or holding it over my face to look natural. Maybe the person coming in won’t be able to tell I’m there if I hold really still.

The door is opening now and I don’t have the time. I dive behind a couch in the living room. I should have checked the living room too. Maybe could have found some more clues. The door shuts, and for a second, I think maybe the person coming in just bopped back out. Maybe forgot something in their car. But them I hear the lock turning. Could still be okay. Maybe they just locked it again before going back to their car.