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By David Beakey

Ted had planned his mission. Opening the front door was a piece of cake. No problem there. He tapped his pocket and was reassured as the keys jingled. That was the signal to shut the door behind him. He quickly scanned the street. He locked on to the couple across from him, on the opposite sidewalk. They were gesturing, exchanging gestures with each other. Best to see how this develops, he thought. They finally stopped talking and started drifting away laughing. Ted glanced around, sweeping the area with an experienced eye. Nothing else seemed amiss, so he started down the walkway, staying in the center. The symmetry of his shadow, with equal parts of cement on either side pleased him. As he reached the sidewalk he executed a right turn and was on his way. The air was fresh and his breathing was normal. He strode on purposefully. Near the corner, however, he felt tightness in his throat. There was just no way to see around there; he’d have to take his chances. He considered stepping around and then ducking back, much like a cop would do upon entering a building, but knew that would look foolish. Instead, he held his breath and made the move, his eyes open wide and ears attuned for anything out of the ordinary. He encountered no problems, but up ahead were two groups of people, advancing towards him. Closest to him were two girls, laughing and talking. They weren’t paying much attention to anyone but each other. He would easily sidestep them. Behind them were three people: an old man, a younger man and an elderly woman. They were looking straight ahead as they walked, silent and somber. To make matters worse, these groups were close together. Ted would have to engage them almost simultaneously. As he started to make his plan, he also had to check his new flank, the far sidewalk, as well as his rear, since he had moved onto a busier street. A slight throbbing started in his head. The two groups moved closer. The girls were quite noisy, but their words were jumbled, making no sense. The group behind them walked slowly on. Ted considered crossing the street, but a bus stopped parallel to him, foiling that plan. He surveyed the situation. His gait faltered. He thought he heard steps behind him and whirled his head. When he turned back, they were almost upon him. He knew he had to make a decision. At the last possible moment, he turned and quickly retraced his steps, walking faster so that they wouldn’t overtake him. As he neared his home, his breathing became more regular. He hurried up his steps, his keys in his hand. As he opened the door, he checked behind him by looking in the glass of the storm door. The coast was clear, no one had followed him. Shutting the door behind him, Ted felt a combination of embarrassment and relief. He sighed. He promised himself that tomorrow he would go further. He had been back home, in “the world”, for a week now.