I stand and reach for the dresser, hoping that my intruder has left his phone there. No luck. My cell phone is in my backpack, down stairs. “Damn...” I whisper.I can hear the TV on down stairs blaring some cop show or action movie. Hoping my intruder is sleeping I begin to work on the knot around my wrist. After several minutes of struggling I manage to loosen it enough to slip out of. Throwing on my jeans and a t-shirt, I carefully head down the stairs. The stairs creak a bit under my. He had enough money in his account to pay his next mortgage, pay his food bill, and put some gas in his truck. He stopped at a convenience store and bought a big bottle of soda.Arriving home, only four people were gathered in his garage eating dinner. There was always a lot of coming and going from the garage during the evening while people ate dinner, took care of a few errands, chatted, and shopped from the inventory of food kept there for breakfasts and lunches. He wondered what they would. More

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