Unlocked

David had always kept his front door unlocked when he went out. The neighborhood he lived in was surprisingly safe, and that was half the reason-- the other was that he was forgetful, and more often than not found his keys lost. It was easier for him to have his door unlocked all the time, and not once did anybody trespass.

Until Marion Yale came to the neighborhood.

She was an up-and-coming “entrepreneur” who had taken refuge here, right next to David’s flower garden. He had come to her door with fresh cookies, and she had repaid his kindness with a slam of her door. When he would come out in the morning for his daily run, she would stare him down like an eagle, prompting him to head back inside. The aggression was out of nowhere, and slightly unfair, but he learned to deal with it. He was not an approachable person, and perhaps Marion could see that.

It was a rather warm night when the men came.
His door was unlocked, and he had gone to grab groceries from the farmer’s market. He came back in quite a hurry-- and that’s when David realized his door was ajar. He dropped his bags, running into the house.
There were plenty of men occupied with his decor, sat right in the living room. He didn’t believe it for a second, bit on his tongue, and ran the other way.
Marion opened the door hesitantly.

“Do you know these people?”

David pointed to his house, the silhouettes of the men in the window. She looked over, her hands tensing on the doorway.

“No, I don’t. And I think it’s plain rude to interrupt me.”

Despite his begging, she shut the door, almost too harshly.

Then opened it.

“They’re looking for me.”