She’s leaving now.

There he goes.

You had to study their daily habits. Who was going to work, and who was just out for a short walk. Who was suddenly afraid that she had left the stove on. Who was sure that he had forgotten to turn off the lights and went back day after day to check.

A pro had to keep track of everything. He wasn’t a true pro yet, but he was getting there. He had ransacked three apartments, and he already knew that working by yourself was a definite advantage. The guys who stripped cars always had a partner, but he didn’t want to depend on anyone else.

He left his hiding place under the stairway, walked up half a flight and had the door open in three seconds flat. He was already an expert at not scratching the frame.

He felt a warm pressure in his body and stood still in the hallway until his heart slowed down.

Silence was both his friend and his enemy. He never made a lot of noise. If the tenant in the apartment below was in bed with the flu, he wasn’t going to be so impolite as to disturb her.

He started with the living room because that’s the way it had happened the first time. After four months, he knew everything there was to know about living rooms. It’s a good thing you’re not a book thief, he always laughed to himself. People don’t usually own many books. You’re a burglar but you own books. A petty criminal, but also a husband and a father.

He had held down another job once or twice, but he never thought about that anymore. Some people can handle the rat race and some can’t, and he had made his choice.

This tenant owned books. He had seen in the man’s face that he was a reader but couldn’t tell the kinds of books he was into.

It would be fun to check out the titles, he thought. But he didn’t take unnecessary risks.

He rummaged through the drawers and glanced at the walls but saw nothing worth taking. He crossed the hallway to the bedroom.