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.
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Blake has been living on the streets for...
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-Blake-
It was late in the evening, and Jordan was already in bed. I was in my own room, reading some art magazines to learn more about all the different techniques. When Jordan talked about his paintings, he used words I had never even heard of, and I wanted to understand what he was talking about.
Mrs. Simmons had been kind enough to bring me some magazines and books to pass the time, and I used the opportunity to learn more about the world. I had to admit that it was quite nice to lay down on a soft bed, listen to some music and read. I didn't need to worry about finding food or a place to sleep, and I didn't need to be constantly looking over my shoulder.
I kept my eyes on the magazine and reached for the glass of juice I had on the nightstand next to my bed. I brought the glass to my lips and tried to take a sip, but the glass was empty.
"Oh right..." I chuckled and put the magazine down.
I got up from the bed and exited the room. I tried to be quiet as I walked down the hall since it was almost eleven in the evening. I walked past Jamie's quiet room and heard music coming from Joyce's on the other side. I sneaked past the master bedroom. There was a hint of light coming from under the door – the parents of the family never seemed to sleep.
I walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen, but stopped right after stepping in. Mr. Simmons was sitting next to the kitchen table with a notebook in front of him. He was eating leftovers halfheartedly, writing something in the notebook.
I didn't even have time to decide if I should come back later, when he suddenly lifted his eyes from his work and noticed me standing by the door, and his whole body jerked in surprise.
"Christ! You scared the hell out of me," he said, taking a deep breath.
"I am sorry, sir. I didn't mean to."
"It's fine. I'm so tired I get spooked if I see my own reflection," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Come in, have a seat."
"I was just getting something to drink," I muttered and hurried to the fridge. "I'll be out of your hair in no time."
"Nonsense! I haven't had the time to speak with you. How long have you been staying with us anyway? A week?" he spoke in a light manner while holding back his yawn.
"More like a month," I muttered, filling up my glass with juice.
He stared at me for a moment, and then checked his watch. "Has it really been that long already?"
"Time flies," I said cheerfully and grabbed my glass. "Well, I'm off now. I don't want to bother you any longer."
"No, no! You're not bothering me. I could use a break anyway. Please – have a seat."
I tried to give him a friendly smile, while my instincts screamed me to make a run for it. I didn't want to spend any time with Mr. Simmons. I had no idea what to think of him, and I was worried I would say something wrong and screw everything up.
