You Got Me

In the middle of the night, Jonathan heard his living room window shatter.

Almost immediately he was roused from sleep and he shot himself down the stairs to confront the intruder. My house is in danger, he thought, the intruder is in my house.

Nevermind that Jonathan wielded no weapon, nor any significant brute strength, he felt confident he could handle anyone or anything he found downstairs. Only the scared can be defeated, and Jonathan was not afraid in the slightest. Tonight would be the end of this, once and for all.

When Jonathan bought this house a few months ago, he quickly learned it was seemingly a hot spot for local thieves to burglarize. How this phenomenon came to be, Jonathan hadn’t the slightest clue. Of course, he had never seen one of these men, nor had he ever caught one, but almost every week he heard someone come in and walk around.

Yesterday proved to be a particularly frustrating occasion. On having cornered the intruder downstairs, Jonathan shined his flashlight only to reveal his reading chair and standing lamp. Unexplainably, the intruder had evaded Jonathan’s grasp.

Tonight will be different, Jonathan insisted. He raced down the stairs, and saw the pieces of glass scattered across his floor. I will not let him get away from me. Nothing can be found in the dark, however, so Jonathan flipped on all the lights as he stormed into each room; he found each room empty, one after another. Knowing the intruder had to be somewhere, Jonathan braved the steps headed toward the basement.

In that dark place he heard a voice say, You got me.

And Jonathan aimed his flashlight at the sound. Maybe he was still dreaming, but the light revealed only himself in the reflection of a mirror.