The Wrong House

I was and still am a thief, but that experience has made me wonder a lot.
My new friend had driven me there. He had said he had seen a nice house out in the country that seemed to be abandoned but which was loaded with lots of goods. I thought it would be an easy task and without further inquiring we made a plan to break into that house. It was dark but somehow I had that uncanny feeling that I had already been to that place before. It felt as if everything was calling out to me like an old friend.

The place was unusually quiet, no dogs barking whatsoever. Only the noise of the cricket and the leaves rustling in the wind. It was weird. We went in through the kitchen window. We didn't take anything from the kitchen though. The drawing room seemed to contain all the fortunes of the house. We took everything expensive we could lay our hands on, from the TV to the priceless antiques. I like to read a lot so I took the liberty of even stealing the books in the room. We literally raided the drawing room. The other rooms didn't contain many things though. So after about an hour of stealing we came out of the house and drove to my friend's apartment.

I wasn't feeling well and was a bit tired so I told my new accomplice to split the loot while I took some rest. I drank some beer he'd brought and fell on the couch. I slept well that time. I slept like I had never slept before. When I woke up the room was empty except for my share of the loot. I asked the receptionist and she informed me that he had left a message for me. It went something like this-"I have left the city. Forgive me if I have embarrassed you." Making plans to spend the money I took a novel and started to read. The story was familiar. I checked the title and found that I had already read it. Well I took another novel and found that I had already read that one too. I took another and found the same result. I turned over the first page to see who had bought it.

Oh my god! I nearly jumped out of the couch that time. I was totally dumbfounded.

The book was mine. I checked out the other loots too. The antiques looked familiar so did the paintings and so did the jewelry. In fact everything looked familiar. Then I realized what else had seemed familiar and why. The country had seemed familiar and so had the house that we had broken into. The kitchen had smelled familiar and the drawing room had appeared so inviting.

Damn! I had broken into my own summerhouse and I hadn't realized it. The nerd had made a fool out of me. He had made me burgle my own house.