Keith Boer didn’t know anything about murder or adultery, or much of anything else. He had drifted from one prison to another, one jail to another, and stealing was all he really knew. H did miss his friend Bruce, who had tried their first attempt in making home brew in prison. Too much of something and Bruce had bled out before they could get him out of the cell. But he was here to steal not relive memories. The rain kept people in and Keith stole from houses not people. People were trouble. Keith had been walking since yesterday and had tired of it. Most houses that had for sale signs in front of them were locked but every once in a while they’d be careless and leave one open. Keith tried one after another in the new subdivision and finally a door opened for him. All the amenities of a new home! Keith took off his clothes and bathed, wished there were towels and soap but he would settle for clean warm water. Keith allowed himself to air dry in the bathroom and decided to explore the place, nude. There was a washer and a dryer, but no soap for the washer. Keith didn’t care. He’d take what he would get whatever it was. No food, no booze, nothing he could carry away at all, which was sad, but at least he was dry and his clothes would be somewhat cleaner. Keith checked the garage and a second or two of fear gripped him. There was a car there. He stepped back into the house very quickly and locked the door behind him. Oh shit! And he was naked. But the house was empty; he knew that, so what the hell was the car doing there? He peeped out the window and the car was just sitting there. Finally, Keith decided, naked and all, to investigate the car. The keys were in it. There were some clothes that looked like they might fit him and even some cash in the pockets. He opened the trunk and found more clothes, a little more money and booze. There was a case of wine and a couple of bottles of whiskey. The keys were in the car. Keith knew if he got caught he could do some real time but he also knew if he moved fast enough he could be in South Carolina before anyone missed the car. He could hit Myrtle Beach and ditch the car, keep the booze, rent a cheap room somewhere and drink hard on the beach. Keith left his old clothes in the washer and drove off wearing new pants that were just a little too big for him. He hadn’t noticed the cell phone in the car but when it dinged Keith jumped. Damn, they could track him with that thing! Well, let them track this, Keith thought and he pulled over to a mail box and left the cell phone in it. The rain poured down and it took Keith nearly a full minute to discover how to turn the wipers on.