DICHOTOMY™

• THIEF •

It was no less than pure madness.

But she was convinced that it had been a long time that she had gone insane.

Alex was in her complete consciousness. No one in their right mind would dare to sneak around in the company at midnight despite the boisterous security. She could make it to the 62nd floor only because the security personelle recognised her as an intern who worked for the President.

Or else . . . . she didn't even need to describe how fringing those guns in their hands were. She kept looking at the numerous CCTV cameras on her way here, vigilant that one of them might just roll out a node and shoot her in the head.

This whole place was way beyond a future place. She had every reason to not trust anything here.

She was certain in her actions. Even though she realized she was committing absolute foolishness, it was too late to turn back now.

She flung her leather sling bag to the corner of her shoulders, while clutching her shawl tightly to keep her head and face covered.

Only the music of her feet moving in the 62nd floor sounded the entire time. Everything else was absolutely silent. She missed the ringing of centipedes that was not audible from so high up.

It was the first time she had stepped in The Walker House such late at night. The excuse of an extra shift and the special ID card for the 62nd floor really came in handy to slip out unsuspicious.

She flung herself in the warmth of the President's office after circling the lounge.

Empty.

Alex speculated that he must have not bore the trouble to carry her cheap glasses all the way to his place. If he had really hid them, they must be here in his office or some garbage dump by now.

He must have headed home. No way he was going to stay here till midnight. The course was clear.

She loomed around in a fresh aroma of a spicy citrus, the room must have been cleaned a while ago.

But, why was it unlocked?

Well, he does not have to worry. The security here is so air tight one might get shot in the head before trying anything funny.

"The glasses . . . . "

She tossed and turned around the object placed in the office, flipping through files and foraging through desk drawers. She felt immensely horrible on sneaking in his office as if she was a burglar. And wanted to just run back home many times.

But each time her conscience asked her to run, each time she would remind herself how many dirty and odd jobs she had to do on the streets to earn that money and had bought those pair of glasses.

"Yes. Its alright. I am not taking anything else. Just my glasses."

Stupid girl is stealing now! Stealing now! Stealing now! Stupid girl is stealing now! What a pity!

Her hands shook as the voice sang in her head with the rhythm of the nursery rhyme - "The London bridge." But she ignored it, or at least tried to. She had no time to spare.

After a hefty while of immersive checking, she did not find her glasses anywhere in the office.

Maybe he was just kidding, stupid woman. There's no way he would . . . .

Alex sprang to her feet and decided to walk out of his office.

With a compelling murmur to her voices which were being strangely kind today, she opened the door. The lounge and the reception on the floor were clouded in darkness. No other noises could be heard except her shaky breathing.

She couldn't find it, anyways.

Or on the second thought . . . . . no, no, no.

She certainly could not go beyond the permitted 62nd floor.

The 63rd floor was the forbidden garden where no one - absolutely no one was allowed to enter. But what if he hid it there. He knows that no one will dare to piss him off by stepping feet at that floor about which no one knows.

Did she want to piss him off by checking there too?

On the second thought, he might really be kidding. And the 63rd floor would be locked steadfast at this time of the night . . . . else the guards would have been stationed there too.

She just wanted to go up, see it locked and come back down. This way, she would be able to convince herself to give up on this hazardous idea.

"After all, it just that."

She took up her chiffon shawl and fastened it tightly like a cape, while rushing out to the stairs that led to the 63rd floor. If only she could give her aching knees a break with the elevator - too bad it was prohibited.

While climbing up, she tried to ease her worries by peeking out into the NYC's glimmering night lights. Her dark black hair that was loosely pinned to her nape wafted around with the pace of her steps.

But the more above she climbed, the more she learnt that the President was a strange person. Yet seemed so eerily familiar to someone.

This 63rd floor was a clear transition from such a professional miasma he had created for the whole estate to such a large, homely penthouse suite tucked above - away from everyone's eyes.. He had a second home for himself built in his building.

Although it appeared gorgeous, its air was cold and dreary like her own home without Dani.

Somehow in the silence of the night, she was struck with an epiphany. She reached the end of the stairs to stand on the walkway that led to the doors of the 63rd floor.

"You must really like to be hated."

Amidst her conclusion mixed with vexation, she finally arrived in the spacious plaza, where she suspected her glasses to be hidden.

"Should I or should I not?"

Do it. Go in. Young girl, go in and take it.

She noticed that the chiffon shawl did little to conceal her body peeking out of the thin, white dress. But she brushed it off as no one was around to look at her.

Alexandra inhaled deeply as she took a step forward.

Here goes nothing.