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Maybe they could spare a snack or two while my phone charged.

I stood there, knocking so long my knuckles ached. But nothing happened. Nobody came to the door and no one yelled from the other side to tell me to get the hell on either.

One glance down and I saw the bane of my existence—a digital keypad instead of a lock. I couldn’t put my lock picking skills to use on it.

The rational thing to do would be toget the hell on. But there was nothing rational left in my brain after the last few hours I’d endured.

As it turned out, my sore ankles, rumbling stomach, and sweat slicked skin didn’t know whatrationalwas.

Add in my sudden urge to pee and I was fresh out of decorum. I needed relief. From...everything.

At the very least, I needed a bathroom break and a place to charge my phone.

At most, I needed a meal and a little air conditioning to cool off before I braved the walk back to the other side of the lake. Because now that I knew where I was, I kinda—sorta—knew how to get back.

Fighting the urge to squirm, I made it to the back of the house and my jaw dropped yet again. The whole deck was raised, leaving enough space under it for a boat, two kayaks and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t have time to identify.

After climbing the stairs, I was greeted with another keypad instead of a lock and resisted the urge to scream. Instead, Ipressed my nose against the window closest to the back door and sighed when I didn’t see any signs of life.

Until now, I thought someone might have been inside and they were just ignoring me, but now that I could see no-one was home, I did what I had to do.

Do you know how hard it is to break into a house when your bladder is trying to embarrass you? It was the most humbling thing I’d done in a while. And when I got in through the broken window, I couldn’t even marvel at the beautiful kitchen. All I could focus on was the small miracle of me not cutting myself on any stray glass in the process.

Then I ran straight for the hall in search of a bathroom. Luckily, the second door I flung open was a half bath.

A stunning forest view greeted me as I relieved myself, and I almost got lost in how magical it was.

As I washed my hands, my eyes traced over the raised stone covering the wall in front of me and the warm lighting provided by the two fixtures on either side of the mirror.

In a word, it was…perfect. If the spare bathroom looked like this, then what about the rest of the house?

As I trekked back to the kitchen, I pulled my phone and charger out of my crossbody bag and plugged it into the first outlet I saw.

Then I spun in a slow circle, admiring the double height ceiling and the panoramic views of the lake and forest.

Breathtaking. Everything was so tastefully extravagant. And somehow, warm and inviting at the same time.

A massive staircase separated the living and kitchen areas. It was lit by sconces that explained the soft, amber light illuminating the tall windows when I walked up. A familiar, woodsy scent permeated the air, adding another layer of cozy, rustic charm.

It always amazed me to see how other people lived.

Whoever owned this home had it made. This house was the epitome of postcard material.

And I couldn’t help the guilt gnawing at me now that my bladder was relieved and a sliver of rationality crept back to the surface.

I’d broken into someone’s house.

Eyes darting to the center island, I bit my lip at the red battery sign flashing on my phone screen.

It was still too soon to leave.

But the second Icouldleave, I would.

Right after I wrote a note apologizing for the window.

My stomach filled the silence of the home with another obnoxious growl. One that was harder to ignore now that I’d taken care of my other needs.

Okay, I’d write a note for the window and the food I was about to eat.