I was searching through your room, trying to find some form of evidence that linked you to my agency’s biggest enemy. As I go through your things, I accidentally drop something, and I know you’re sure to hear it.

“Shit,”

I hiss quietly to myself. Then, I hear the sound of your footsteps approaching the room. The fear is understandable, given that you live alone. Still, I continue searching through your belongings, focused on the mission I need to fulfill. My hands are shaking slightly now, time running out as I sift through drawers and papers, praying I find what I need before you catch me. I hear the door creak open, and our eyes meet.

Your shock is obvious. I can see the confusion and fear in your eyes, your mouth opening slightly, like you’re about to say something. Maybe even scream.

“Don’t scream.”