Gemotions

Liam bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes darting from the garage to the house. Mr. Henderson, with his patched-up overalls and beat-up pickup truck, had just pulled out. He was off to his “weekend fishing trip,” as always. Liam knew better. He’d seen the gleaming black Bentley pull out of the hidden side entrance a few times now.

He told himself he was just curious. He needed to know. The anticipation was a knot in his stomach, a tickle behind his eyes. He’d spent all week sketching elaborate plans for home renovations in his notebook. He could practically feel the cool marble beneath his feet, the soft leather of a new sofa.

He scrambled over the fence, adrenaline pumping. The windows of the house were tinted, but Liam knew there had to be a way in. He reached for the back door. It wasn't locked.