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I got home that night. Got a beer from the fridge, tanked it, and thought about what I had done. I fucked up, I know. I looked around my room and it never looked so empty in my life. I took off my cloths, took a quick shower and tried to go to bed.

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He disabled the burglar alarm then pushed the metal pick into the door lock at the back of the house; let the tool play across the lock's pin. Too much or too little pressure, too little or too much finesse guaranteed failure. The skill in using a pick is to bounce it in the keyway according to the resistance offered by each pin. Gently coercing the pins into obeying his will, he was sensitive to the sound, the feel of the pick touching each pin.

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