Fat guys never get away with anything. Or so they say.
Terrence is particularly grateful for that societal stereotype as he creeps out of the target’s residence and into the dim corridor of the apartment complex. The chump he’d left sleeping in the apartment behind him wouldn’t have believed what had just happened it if he’d seen it himself: a fat man, carrying an equally fat duffel bag, stealing everything of value he could possible carry.
No, because big people make too much noise. They’d never get away with something that requires so much stealth.
Terrence knows better. He’s a professional. And if someone mocks him for his size, denies his skills? They’re the fools at the end of the day.
He’s sure that nobody heard him while he was in the apartment, and he’s sure that he disabled the security system the apartment complex called “state of the art”. It just took a little persistence to crack, that’s all. Took a little time. Nobody had any patience anymore.
Just to be safe, he moves through the halls with the same grace and control he’d used in the apartment. By moving slowly and smoothly, rolling on the balls of his feet, his massive legs didn’t plod along. By keeping his movements tight and calculated, the duffel bag didn’t shift in his hand or bump into anything that could’ve made noise. The hardest part of being quiet was controlling his breathing. That was one part of being big that he had a hard time controlling: wheezing. Especially when he’d just completely drained someone’s living space of valuables.
Every time he saw a hint of movement, heard anything other than his own heartbeat in his ears, he froze. And every time, it would pass. Even if someone saw him, he’d just pretend to be a boarder that lived downstairs and was on his way home from the 24-hour gym across the street. That lie usually worked. The duffel bag was easily explained away – and so was the sweat collecting at the base of his spine.
Once he hears a scratching at a door. He happens to be right in front of someone’s door, the silver ring of a peephole glittering in the low light of the hallway. Bad news. He can’t freeze here or he’ll be trapped. But if he panics and makes too much noise getting away, they’ll come investigating…
There’s no time for waffling or stewing in fear. Terrence is a professional; he decides to keep walking, keeps his cool.
It works. Twenty minutes later, without a care in the world, Terrence stows the bag away in the trunk of his midnight black BMW – paid for in cash a long time ago – and drives off.
The televised news-report the next morning reveals that he wasn’t perfect in his escape: someone caught a glimpse of him creeping out the front door. Must’ve been that creep at the door. But of course, that wasn’t enough to call the cops on. “He didn’t look like a thug,” the skinny guy says, when he was questioned about Terrence. “That’s not the guy. It can’t be. Come on, a fat guy pulling off a robbery like that?”
“Probably off to go get some doughnuts or something,” skinny guy’s friend adds.
Terrence smiles at that, petting the duffel bag mindlessly – like it’s his pet, like he’s the clumsy, corny villain everyone makes him out to be. Imagine how many doughnuts fifteen grand can buy.
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What a story! So much win packed into this bite-sized dessert! The length is perfect for this plot.
Keep on writing!
Truly amazing!
Nice , quite a picturesque and action packed description reader is taken all along with curiosity to the end that abruptly closes curtains! Well done. Keep it up !