"Well?" The man asked, eyeing me suspiciously with a furrowed brow. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest, his patience dwindling. I couldn't blame him, since I was an intruder. Technically he has the right to shoot me dead for breaking and entering.
I am sitting stretched out on the chairs, cocooned in the sleeping bag with my mouth agape. I am stunned for several reasons. One, because it's amazing that anyone lives here. Two, I'm wondering how deeply this man sleeps for him to not hear me kicking a window and my wailing while trying to fix myself up last night.
The fear and helplessness a mouse feels when it's cornered by a cat is something I can relate to at this moment. I want to speak, but my mouth is dry and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. To make matters worse,
