Micah Jennings

1.6.05 Thursday [watching Ella]

I watched her carefully from above. It was the same as always-almost effortless now. Maybe if these people weren’t so habitual about everything…

It was nine till seven and she was right on schedule. The woman fumbled clumsily down the stairs with several boxes of papers, balancing them precariously in one arm as she clawed for her keys with the other. Her car chirped and flung open a gaping trunk, which she fed her cargo.

It’s funny how these people do the same thing over and over. As she strode to her car door she stubbed her toe on an uneven slab of cement and cursed. I’ve seen her do this at LEAST ten times! Then she leapt into her BMW and sped off, leaving long black marks where her tires spun against the asphalt.

I folded my binoculars and put them in my pack—I find it works best when I stuff them to the left a little, so they don’t get crushed when I roll, and more importantly, so they don’t bruise my ribcage. I checked the ground for a second, and then leaned from the eave and flung myself over the ledge. I cupped my feet around a drainpipe that ran the height of the building, eased my grip and slid towards the ground a few stories.

I wondered momentarily if this woman really expects to keep anyone out with the pathetic four-foot fence that runs the perimeter of her property. I doubt it, because it only took a little push from the pipe and a 180, and I was balancing on the flimsy thing. From there it was small hop to her driveway, followed by a nice roll, if I say so myself.

So anyway, the lady that owns the place is Ella Peterson. She works as a lawyer in the city, primarily handling lawsuit cases, and she usually wins. Or at least she lives like it. As pitiful as the fence was, it was just a small part of her complex (and definitely expensive) security system that ferociously guards the house. I’ve spied her fiddling with the various alarms, but was really only a little nervous. Had there been dogs, guards, or gun-toting spouses, I would have skipped it, but I was confident that this would be another simple job. And it was, once the rock was through her window.

-M.J.

posted by Mr. Linty @ 1:12 AM