You could hear the clock tick. It was that quiet. The dust of my uncles’ climbing the stairs to bed had settled more than an hour earlier, but I remained still, waiting, listening to their breathing change from rough coughs of half asleep to the thick snores of unconsciousness. Still, I did not move. I clutched the wrinkled sheets of my bed and shivered. The clock ticked on from the dresser, counting off the early morning hours like cadence. Soon it would count itself into daylight and my chance would be gone. I had planned this thing for more than a month and knew this had to be the night. In the morning the money would be gone, transferred from the safe downstairs to the inaccessible vault of a bank, waiting months for the cash to accumulate again. I did not want to wait months for another opportunity. It was now or never. I stuck a foot out into the cold air, shivering not from the chill, but from sheer terror, snatching the foot back at the sound of a s...
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