• pressed up close, I’d imagine
• plagued by depression and anxiety
• vices are often hid
• in front of the wall safe
• that’d be the day!

Doesn’t do to enter a stressful occupation if you’re already plagued by depression and anxiety. But my shrink said what I needed, what would break my downward spiral, was excitement. He was just using me to perpetrate espionage on his chief rival down the street, but he explained it like this: safecracking would be therapeutic for me, and our doctor-patient confidentiality would protect me in the event that my shrink somehow ran afoul of the law.

“You’ll love it, once you try it. The trick will be getting you to stop!”

That’d be the day!

So now I’m curled into a ball in front of the wall safe in the rival shrink’s pitch-black office. I’m pressed up close, I’d imagine, trying to slip into the wall itself in my desperation to hide. I just know I’ve tripped some kind of alarm and the cops are racing to the scene. My shrink wasn’t using me after all. He was just trying to get rid of me. Throwing me to the wolves.

I pull myself together, and pull myself up the wall until I’m standing, staring at the dull metallic surface of the safe I’m now determined to defeat. My hearing is heightened by a lifetime of paranoia, making the action of the lock as plain as speech. Gifts are often hid within burdens, as vices are often hid within virtues. The safe clicks softly open, and I behold the scent of chocolate chip cookies.

The note on the plate is addressed to me.

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