Break In

He put his blackgloved fingers carefully against to the windows’ glass, followed by the pink shell of his ear. He listened to the dreams of those sleeping inside, and watched his breath in the moonlight, the silver of it kissing the pane, frosting it in white dust feathers. It reminded him of the coldness of the glass, and he lifted his head from it, and pulled his hat down to cover his now-red ear.

It was easy to ball up his fist and put it through the window; the noise it made was colder than the night, all crystal bright and somehow blue, and yet it was swallowed up in the dark, lost in the moment.

He reached down and unlocked the deadbolt, then let himself in, and shut the door behind, and headed right for the stairs that would take him up to the second floor, where the small bedroom was.

The gun at his side was heavy, but it would be lighter soon. ┬áNot one, but two bullets’ worth.


About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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0 Responses to Break In

  1. Trent Lewin says:

    Jones, I fear that you may go places I am unready to find for myself. Love that.

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