PRISONER EXPRESS

Enter the house through a door carelessly left unlocked and the night, once the domain of deep dreams and deeper sleep, churns into a high-cresting wave or adrenaline and fear. Pull the door shut and freeze. Stand stillâ€"or as still as trembling knees and shaking hands will allowâ€" and listen past the thump thump of the frantic heart. Listen. It's quiet. There's no ticking of claws nor clocks. No running refrigerators nor air conditioners. The eyes adjust and see a big-screen TV, a sound system, a sofa. The family room. Prowl around and peer into the pools of shadow, looking for a purse, a wallet, a ring of car keys. Nothing. Not here. Move into the kitchen. Clean, bare counters and a table. A flower arrangement on the table. Nothing here. Move to the hall. See two doors. One is halfway down, the other at the end of the hall, both are partially open. Move into the hall. Slowly, cautiously. Hallways are megaphones, they channel and amplify sound. Close to the first door the scent is of bathroom. Quick peak. Empty. One more step and stop. The heart slams so hard it rocks the body and forces small, quick gaspsâ€"oh oh ohâ€" from the lungs and blood through the head sounds like a river over white water rapids. Slow breathing, calm the heart, calm the body, calm the mind. Move forward until the room can be seen. Snapshoot the scene and fade back out of sight. Review: harsh street light softened by translucent curtains steals through a window. A large bed dominates the small room. Two night stands at either side and a dresser parallel on the far wall. A jewelry box squats dead center. A purse sits on the nightstand closest to the door. And two bodies lie sleep breathing. The purse lies inches from the woman: too close. The jewelry box, then…ease the door openâ€"slowly, don't push the air aroundâ€"listen. Everybody's breathing is deep and easy. Empty the mind and drift into the room with senses fully expanded, alert for the tiniest shift in breath or position, focused on nothing but aware of everything. Float across the foot of the bed and up between the dresser and the sleeper. Grasp the box, pivot, drift out of the room. Pause outside the door and listen: everybody's breath is deep and easy. In the kitchen a bottle of water from the fridge soothes the dry throat, the contents of the box fills the void, and a question enters the empty mind: courageous or crazy? Abandon what is empty. Take what is gained and exit.