Character piece

The glowing red numbers of my electronic alarmclock mockingly tells me that it is now exactly 1:30 AM and from experience I know that my eyes are going to be the same angry red colour again tomorrow morning. But as you grow older insomnia becomes a constant companion that you grudgingly learn to accept. These days I spend most nights in an arm-chair at the window of my second story bedroom watching the houses around me sleep.

Yet, tonight is seems that I will have some company. About five minutes ago a car, with its lights switched off, slowly came driving down my street and dropped off a young man. At first I had thought that he must be one of my neighbours’ sons and that his friends were considerate enough not to wake the whole street when coming back after a night out.

Then I noticed that he was dressed all in black, like young people have a tendency to do these days, but still there is something strange about him. He has a large frame and is built like a football player but has a slouching posture as if he is trying to be noticed as little as possible. He is wearing black jeans, some sort of black running shoes and a dark top with a hood that covers most of his face from my view…although I did catch a glimpse of dark hair and a rather prominent nose. Yet, the thing that is really making me uneasy is the fact that he is wearing black leather gloves…on a warm summer’s night.

When he got out of the car he silently closed the door and quickly headed for the nearest tree where he is now standing shielded from the street lamp’s glare. Luckily, from my position I can still see him. (And naturally my trusty little binoculars do help. It’s not that I’m nosy…The eyes just aren’t what they’re supposed to be anymore, so I always have them handy just in case something interesting does happen…) He appears to be rooted to the spot with only his eyes darting everywhere; watching his surroundings. It seems like he immediately took a liking to my neighbour’s new BMW parked directly across the road from me. He noiselessly crosses the street, all the while glancing around and behind him. He looks just like someone with a guilty conscience…like a criminal.

Then it hits me: why, he is a criminal! Oh my. The young man must be part of the car-stealing syndicate that has been in all the local papers lately.

He quietly drops to his knees on the shady side of the car and takes his tools from a jeans pocket. As he starts working on the lock, I reach for my cellphone… yes, even little old ladies own cellphones these days…and phone the police.

2002