I slide the pick into the key slot. A slight turn of the pick to the left followed by a thrust forward and I hear the expected click a moment later.
I close my eyes for a second and let the air out of my lungs. As my muscles relax the blood rushes in my temples. I always get blood rush before ‘starting work’.
A gentle tug and the heavy door opens with grace. A well-balanced Blind Door. My favorite brand.
The jewelry shop is located in the trendiest and most expensive residential area of Huntington, Forest Hill. I know it well. I always do my homework; surveying the area and identifying security cameras, police beat schedules, emergency exit alarms, every detail.
Eleven and a half minutes later, when I step outside, I am all ears. Anything suspicious?
I listen. In the distance—just the sounds of the city that never sleeps.
I keep listening.
Faint rustling in the lilacs behind the building makes me freeze. Before I reach for the sling knife in my pocket, a pair of doves take off and disappear in the night sky. Pheew. I lick my lips.
Praying for no more surprises I pocket the stocking cap and adjust the duffle bag on my shoulder. It’s a heavy bag, full of jewelry: necklaces, bracelets, rings, all wrapped in cotton pouches. The whole shop is in the duffle, except two items: a pair of earrings and a bracelet.
Great story. Well written; a very easy, enjoyable read. No big surprises, but a nice, satisfying resolution. (I hope Monique shows up at The Trocadero's.)
Great story! I really enjoyed it.
Congrats. The short story flows easily. But I wonder whether it was strictly necessary the flashback with the history of his mother and the false accusation.
Thank you so much, Scott, Elizabeth and Luis. Much appreciated. George