My key slid into the lock, a familiar ritual after a fifteen-hour flight, but it didn’t turn. It hit a wall of resistance. It was dead. I jiggled it, thinking perhaps the mechanism was jammed by the humidity, but deep down, the cold steel told me a different truth. Through the glass panels of my front door, I saw movement. A silhouette. A stranger was sitting on my custom leather sofa, his feet up on the coffee table, drinking my Glenfiddich 30-year-old scotch.
Panic didn’t set in. Rage did. I pounded on the door, the glass rattling in its frame. The door swung open, but it wasn’t the stranger who answered. It was …
My key slid into the lock, a familiar ritual after a fifteen-hour flight, but it didn’t turn. It hit a wall of resistance. It was dead. I jiggled it, thinking perhaps the mechanism was jammed by the humidity, but deep down, the cold steel told me a different truth. Through the glass panels of my front door, I saw movement. A silhouette. A stranger was sitting on my custom leather sofa, his feet up on the coffee table, drinking my Glenfiddich 30-year-old scotch. Read More