My parents’ house is rather large, and I usually find myself here alone. Tonight as I prepared my warm brownie with ice cream I heard keys jingling. No one should have been returning home at that time. I checked to make sure the alarm was on, and continued to wait for my brownie to warm up. I calmly accepted the fact that I was going to die. I could have reach for a knife or tried to find a gun, but I refuse to spend the last moments of my life sweaty and out of breath.
As I walked to my room I heard the keys again.
Turns out it was the three quarters in my pocket.