It had to be a well planned operation, somehow he had to get back in the side window without making too much noise. He definitely did not want his parents hearing him, because as far as they were concerned he would be asleep in there already. Somewhere between the news and the next round of sitcoms he had deftly washed past the entrance to the lounge room where the flickering glow of the television had them transfixed. He had unlatched the back door and fled. He had left open his window for the purpose of the return. After meeting up with his buddy, together they consumed half a bottle of Jack Daniels beneath the willow tree down by the river while the balmy night dragged over them. This was going to add to the difficulty of making a quiet re-entry to the house.

Earlier he had positioned a milk crate from the shed below his bedroom window and now, in his best stealth bomber mode he acted like an unseen shadow merging with the darkness of the side of the house. He’d forgotten about the rake just around the corner and this was the first thing he ran into – a fist of fright took hold, but no lights came blazing on – it was one thirty in the morning. He managed to lever up the window and the sash held – lately there’s been this problem and it had a habit of guillotining shut- hopefully not tonight. The whiskey on his breath and the cloud of cigarettes they’d consumed preceded him into the room. A sweep of worry that it would  be evident tomorrow clouded his consciousness temporarily as his feet kicked the last few feet along the weather boards affording him a landing on the bed.