I know what you may be thinking. You watch people sleep? What are you, insane? And the answer to that is, yes. I suppose I am insane. I love it. Watching people move around in their comfy beds, dreaming about god knows what. It's amazing for me.
It was a cold, rainy night. I walk through an empty street, examining people's homes. I find a small, blue house. Not too big, but not too small. Before I enter, I examine the front of the home. Small wooden porch at the front door, one window on both sides of the door. In the left window I see a fridge, so that should be the kitchen. In the right window, I see a blue, flickering light cut through the darkness of the room. The TV must be on. I walk onto the porch, the sound of the rain covering the sound of my footsteps against the wood. When I reach the door, I lean to my right, and peak into the window.
There's a man, possibly in his 30s-40s, sitting in a dirty, brown recliner chair. In front of him is a small coffee table with a glass bowl of pretzels on it. He's out like a rock, leaning back into the chair. I don't think there's anybody in the house, since there's no light coming from any other area. I even check the back of the house just to make sure, which doesn't even have windows.
Thankful that this could be easy, I return to the porch and carefully try to open the door. Locked. I look at the kitchen window, and see it's one of the windows that can be pulled up. I press my hands against the window, and press against it, while also pushing my hands up. The window slowly opens, and I make enough room for me to climb in. I look around the room and see the window is in front of the kitchen counter. I climb into the window, and silently slide over the counter. I turn around and shut the window.
I crouch down and walk to the living room. When I get to the room, I see he's still sleeping. Looking around for something to sit on, I decide just to sit on the carpet. I sit in front of the TV, and just watch him sleep.
I notice he starts moving, and realize he's about to wake up. I stand up quickly, preparing to run, but I'm already too late. He's woken up now, and looking at me. He gets out of his chair, and starts yelling at me, demanding to leave. I can tell he's about to knock my lights out. I rush over to him, and wrap my hands around his neck. I start to squeeze as tightly as I can, and push him to the floor. Both of us fall down, and I land on him, still holding onto him. He tries to punch my arms and hands, trying to escape from his inevitable death.
He begins to gasp and choke for air. I see red and blue lights shine through the windows, and realize the police are here. Someone must have seen me tackle him. Suddenly, I notice that he isn't moving anymore. I look down at him and see he's completely limp. I pull my hands away from his neck, and see he's still breathing. He's just unconscious. I let out a groan in relief, thankful I didn't kill him.
I stand up slowly, and look outside the window. I raise my hands, and walk to the door. I unlock it and step outside. Instantly, I am tackled and cuffed. Swiftly, I'm pulled up from the ground and walked to a police car. I am told my rights, and shoved into the backseat of the car. I look out the window as I'm being driven to the nearest jail.