"I taught you how to pick locks and this is how you use that skill!?"

Under my breath, I seethed.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not practical with my skills, oh wise teacher," I spat through grit teeth. "What do you want me to do? Break into the Louvre to steal the Mona Lisa?"

I was met with an eye roll.

"Still, for a candy box?"

"Hey, I'm curious! What's the point of candy if you don't share it," I point out, "Or eat it." Cynthia shrugged and watched me work.

"Still, the boss doesn't like it when we look through his things. I don't know why you haven't learned this by now. Sometimes I think you want an early grave."

"I'll just take a quick peek—or bite," I said, "and he won't even know the difference."

"I won't know the difference about what?" Cynthia and I froze in our tracks. We're completely screwed for this one.

There are words on the tip of my tongue.

But to silence, I've clung.

There are words of happiness,

Words of grief and sorrow.

Words that I'll never be able to tell tomorrow

The world is changing and the future is coming near.

Closer and closer, I find something to fear.

I fear the world as it crumbles beneath our feet.

The news brings the anguish of the street.

I fear to never be complete.

Words have failed me again.

When I can't say what I feel to family or a friend.

I fear my end when there is nothing more to the world I can send.

But until the future will commence,

I will hang onto my safe silence.