NOT THIS TIME…

He had no home, no family, at least that’s what he wanted people to believe. Jack was from nowhere and from everywhere. He sat on the filthy pavement of the park’s south entrance, watching.

The locals knew him, yet they didn’t. Jack knew them all, especially the man with the brown leather gloves.

At precisely 7.30 am that same man opened the dark green door of his two-storey townhouse, the one with the shiny brass door knocker. He slipped on his gloves and walked past Jack.

As usual, Jack pretended not to notice him. Jack already had his keys, now all he needed was the photograph. It had once dropped from the man’s wallet onto the pavement beside Jack. The memory of the face had ignited Jack’s desire to possess it, as well as the brown leather gloves and the keys.

With those three objects, Jack would aboard a new life, that of the man with the brown gloves. Break out of his cage and be freed from the filthy pavement.

He would take what he wanted. The other man’s life. If he didn’t he would explode. He slipped his chapped hand in the pocket of his jeans. He felt the two rings that held the keys. One belonged to the front door and the other to his car.

It was time to move. As Jack got up and hitched his soiled backpack over his shoulder, a crow sounded like an omen from the depth of the trees in the park. Jack slapped off the dust from his backside and crossed the street towards the dark green door.

He took out the keys and looked round to see if anyone was watching. He pushed them through the letter slot and heard the clunk of the keys on the hardwood floor. Then he turned on his heels and walked down the street towards the train station.

Not this time, he thought.

©2019 Sonia Ferrigno