by Lily Garner

Created on: July 09, 2009

The moment I entered my house, I knew something was wrong. There was a quick rustle and the sound of scurrying footsteps running through the house. Like vermin. Human sized vermin.

The curtain flapped in the living room and I realised I had left the big window open again. Silly me. I was getting so forgetful in my old age. Back when Jack was alive, I never needed to worry about locking doors and windows, he sorted all that out. Not that he needed to, of course. We lived in a peaceful neighbourhood, where everyone knew everybody else. You could trust your next door neighbour with your life. Not anymore. Society has changed so much you can't trust anybody. You have to be suspicious of your own neighbours.

I took a deep breath. Most people would reach for the phone and dial 999 in this situation. Jack would have done the moment we entered the house and realised we had an intruder. But I didn't. You can't even trust the police, these days. They don't know how to handle these yobs. Besides, I didn't want the attention that the police would bring. I live in my own peaceful little world, I didn't want that threatened.

Frozen on the spot, I listened carefully. I would have thought the burglar would have tried to escape by now, but he was still in the house. I could sense his presence, I could almost smell him. The smell of an unworthy kid, who doesn't really belong anywhere. Except in houses of their next innocent victim.

I wondered what he was looking for in my house. I always wonder that, whenever I read about thieves and burglars in the newspapers. What is it they steal? Televisions, radios? He wouldn't find any of that here. Jack had died just as televisions were starting to become popular, and he disapproved of them. He said they'd lead everybody astray one of these days. I believed him, I still do. That's probably the problem with kids. Too much violence and crime shown on the television. They start to think it's normal to act that way.

The only thing I had worth stealing was my jewellery. I still had the engagement ring that Jack proposed with, and the earrings that he gave me on our tenth wedding anniversary. With a sinking feeling, I remembered that I'd left them by the open window, in clear sight of everybody, including the burglar. I tiptoed through the hall and entered the room. They were gone, of course. He had them.

What did some kid want with my jewellery? He probably planned on selling it. Using Jack's gifts to fuel some drug addiction, no doubt.

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