The blinds creaked open at his gentle touch, letting in pre-dawn light, gray and soft. Standing in his living room, he surveyed the quiet neighborhood. No joggers, no one letting the dog out. Jeff across the street had just pulled out for work in his new Audi, and Mrs. Rathers wouldn't be out for her walk for another half-hour. Time to move.<br/><br/>On his way to his door, he took a tiny bundle from the windowsill.<br/><br/>He slipped from the quaint little craftsman house, giving a casual glance about him as he set to the sidewalk, almost immediately turning off, up the walkway of the house next door. He didn't so much as check the windows. She wouldn't be up this early. She never was. In about another ten minutes, her first alarm would go off, and she'd snooze the thing into oblivion until a second, louder alarm went off at 7. Only then would she roll out of bed.<br/><br/>It was odd to think of what was on just other side of this door. As a cool breeze swept down the street, he could almost<i>hear</i>the quiet house just through this portal. The stillness. The warmth. Every light off, but every room lit by this gray glow that would creep into every corner it could, growing brighter and brighter in the stillness, until the sun flashed into view. And in that house there was a person entirely unconcerned with past pain, or future worries, or looking competent and in-control in this moment. Sleeping, or perhaps half-awake, enjoying the quiet. Vulnerable.<br/><br/>He'd heard it said that people looked different at home, and it was true. He'd seen it many times. They were at ease. Off guard. Easy to hurt.<br/><br/>Easy to kill.<br/><br/>Standing on her front stoop, he eyed her doorbell camera. Stupid kid had thrown a rock at it a few days ago, but it seemed fine. The picture on his end was still crystal clear- though of course, he'd already set her system to record looped footage for the next few minutes. Couldn't go spoiling the joke.<br/><br/>From his pocket, he pulled- a pack of cigs? No, that wasn't it... aha. Here it was. The tiny bundle from his windowsill. It was a shame. Not the necklace- it was gaudy and impractical and far too ugly to be that expensive. But the bird was a shame. Poor thing didn't deserve to die just because one man was having problems moving on.<br/><br/>Placing the fragile little thing on her welcome mat, Alex turned to go, hands in his pockets. He strolled out to the sidewalk, pulling the pack of cigs out again. He got one in his teeth, found his lighter, clicked it once, twice...<br/><br/>Sparks. No flame. Ohhh, that was right. He'd taken all the fuel out. Shaking his head, Alex took the cig from his mouth to stomp it into the gutter.<br/><br/>Quitting was harder than he'd thought.