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By Root 311 0

than he had ever ascended stairs before, which was especially dangerous considering the kitchen shears in his left hand. Once inside the bathroom, he tried to remain calm and cut along the plastic in a spot that seemed most logical, but he quickly found himself tearing haphazardly at the plastic with the shears. He could feel the panic building yet could do nothing about it. Blind action had taken the place of reason, and he was acting on adrenaline and instinct. In a little more than a minute, the toothbrush had been extracted from its plastic shell and he was opening the battery compartment at the bottom of the brush in order to load the batteries.

It was at that moment that Martin heard a car door slam.

Cindy Clayton was in her garage.

Martin had hoped to hear the automatic garage door issue a final warning to flee the premises in the event that Cindy arrived home before he could complete the job, but the noise of the kitchen shears battling the herculean plastic shell had apparently masked the expected sound. His hands began shaking uncontrollably at the double beep of a car alarm being activated. He looked up in the mirror of the medicine cabinet and saw a man about to fall apart.

Despite the sweat that streaked his hair and face, his skin was frighteningly pale. His eyes were huge and seemed to be erupting from their sockets. His breathing was rapid and shallow. His heart raced. His feet felt rooted to the bathroom tile. He wondered if he would be able to move again before the police arrived.

With the new toothbrush poised in his right hand, battery compartment now open, Martin paused in the upstairs bathroom of Cindy Clayton’s home, with the homeowner in the garage and just seconds from entering the house. He stopped all action, lowered his shoulders, unclenched his teeth, and relaxed the tight fists that he had unconsciously formed. He stared into Cindy Clayton’s bathroom mirror for more than thirty precious seconds, slowing and deepening his breathing, attempting to relax his body. He knew that he had one chance. If he could regain his wits and begin to think logically, he might have a chance to escape.

Martin heard the connecting door between the garage and the house open, and listened to Cindy Clayton’s first step into the mudroom. Still he remained fixed in place, empty battery compartment anxiously awaiting its new arrivals. He waited fifteen seconds more until he was sure that he was calm enough to proceed, until the man in the mirror was ready for action. His breathing had returned to normal. The color was returning to his cheeks. The quaking of his hands was finally subsiding. As he listened to Cindy Clayton drop her keys onto the marble countertop of her kitchen, Martin began to move like the methodical Martin of old.

As quickly and carefully as possible (for he couldn’t risk dropping something on the floor now), he removed the batteries from the old toothbrush and placed them into the new one, making sure that they were facing the correct way, positive side up.

Cindy Clayton closed a door downstairs, and a moment later Martin heard a toilet lid connect with the toilet tank. He smiled. Even though she was home alone, Cindy Clayton was one of those people who always closed the door when using the bathroom.

He wasn’t surprised.

Martin placed the new toothbrush on its charger and quickly compared the old to the new. Though the bristles were not an exact match, they were close. Martin felt sure that Cindy Clayton would never notice the swap.

Downstairs, a toilet flushed.

Martin quickly scanned the bathroom, retrieving the four pieces of plastic that had been discarded in the sink during the extraction process. He placed the plastic shards, as well as the shears, into his right coat pocket and exited the bathroom, moving as silently and slowly as possible into the upstairs hall.

Downstairs, Cindy Clayton was washing her hands. Martin was happy to discover that Cindy washed her hands after using the bathroom, even when no one was around to notice. He knew that only one in six Americans washed their