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by azrieljohnson

Heart of Gold by Azriel Johnson

Homeless

Two hours later, my heart had calmed, but I was still shaken up by the attack. I was usually so careful when I cased a target, but I had never noticed this guy. No one ever got the jump on me the way he did. I prided myself on my skill as a burglar, I wasn't exactly pleased that I had been reduced to this line of work, but in desperate times one must take desperate measures.
 
I had been a victim of an economic downturn. I lost my job as a courier and had no other real training. In high school, I'd been a gymnast and a martial arts practitioner. I was agile, so I figured I could make a living with being a courier. I was very good at my job. My bike carried me quickly between my building and my destination. My natural agility took me up flights of stairs, sometimes avoiding stairs all together. I never missed my time-sensitive deliveries.
 
Unfortunately, my boss was not good with money and the company folded. I tried to get jobs with other courier businesses. I even tried to start my own service with the three guys I'd worked with previous, but that tanked as well. I applied to every job I could. I had some interviews, but no one hired me. I had nowhere else to turn.
 
I had to move into a derelict townhouse. It had been hit by a fire a couple months previous. Now it was unoccupied. The first night I slept there I shivered... not because I was cold, but because I had hit bottom. I was a squatter. I was homeless.