writing 43..

...Somebody had changed the door's lock, and my key wasn't working anymore.It was an expected thing to happen.Maybe they didn't notice that I wasn inside the house not outside it.So, they made the switch.But, there was something sceptic; how come that they didn't hear all the fuss I had made since I came?!.They must had been deaf not to hear that.This made me think that the whole thing was a trap.

These people confined me inside in puropse.The question was why?!, and the more grave question was; were they inside the house at the time or not?!.For reasons I think that you understand this Reem.I decided not to start screaming and shouting like fools.Saying that there was something wrong, the lock had changed, and I wanted to leave wouldn't be a smart thing!

I was determined to count on myself.There is nothing could scratch yourself like your own nail.

There was a window on the first floor, but it had an iron grid.Mrs. Bankroft was a lonely old woman.It was a sure thing that a burglar would break in and slaughter her someday.

There was a kitchen in the back of the house whitch was overlooking on a beautiful porch.The porch itself was overlooking on a neat garden, and was led to the garden by four steps.The old lady loved that garden too much.

And so. I left my lovely suitcase, and slipped to the kitchen like an eel.I was hoping not meet dear Jason fixing tea for himself.I myself do this in my kitchenette upstairs sometimes.

I looked at the ample kitchen, but I saw nobody.There was a grey cat, looking at me curiously.I didn't reacll that the old lady was having a cat, but that was one of her rights...