One small click, keep the handle turned, deep breathing from the next room. Click. Pause. No change. Safe. Fourteen stairs, step light, fifth one from the bottom creaks, step over it, but careful, it's dark, don't slip. Pitch black, feel the walls to get around the curve, stop at the foyer. Straight ahead now, six steps, hands out a little from the body. There's the door. Right hand over, there's the deadbolt, one turn - shit. Didn't dampen the click of the bolt sliding out, it echoes. Freeze. No breathing, no blinking. Dark like ink, almost bright in front of her wide eyes. No sound, no change. Safe. Turn the handle, small click again, keep it turned, slip out the door, pull it behind slowly, slowly ... click. Pause. Listen. Nothing. Smile. Free.Two blocks to the left, feet cold, protected only by flip-flops, even though it's December. Wasn't it supposed to snow this morning? Small shiver and a thought: God, I love my winter coat. Grass is damp with dew, toes protest in frozen pain. One more block. White house, green shutters. He's waiting in the moonlight on the stoop. She smiles again.

Thirteen whispered thank-you's, two hands holding her own, kisses 'til she can't keep count anymore. His hands slip winter coat protection off her shoulders, his lips dipping to taste the hollow of her throat. She shivers, cold, warm and confused, and closes her eyes. Two steps forward, both sitting now, then lying, as the moon passes behind a thick cloud to give them privacy.

Two blocks again, now the other direction, cold and wetter than before. She winces slightly with each step - something's different now. The sky is gray with threat of sun. Turn left at this corner - gray house, blue shutters. Ten steps across now - frozen grass. Maybe it will snow after all. Turn the handle slow, small click. Push open, keep the handle turned. Small click, closed. Right hand on the deadbolt knob, this time the left hand remembers to dampen. No echo. Shed coat. There is something damp and painful between her thighs. Turn. Six steps. Hands out to follow the curve of the wall. Stop. Fourteen stairs. Fifth one from the bottom creaks. Pause. Hesitation.

The sun rises a little more.