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Break-in
Orli shrugged and the shoulder strap of her purse slid down her arm. She caught the purse in her usual practiced manner in her right hand and sprang the catch with two fingers. Inside the purse her keys jangled against her sunglasses case. She tucked the open purse under the stump of her left arm and rooted around inside for the keys, bringing them out and sorting through the ring one-handed for the front door key. Only as she lifted the key to the lock did she realise the door had been forced and was slightly ajar.
Palming the keys she pushed slowly on the heavy door with one finger, the tip of her painted nail scratching against the rough wooden surface. Orli tilted her head to one side and saw a small pile of her things had been left beside the door; her DVD player, her laptop and a locked jewelry case she kept spare change in which probably felt heavy enough and sounded like it was full of valuables instead of copper and silver coins.
The purse slipped from under the stump of her left arm and dropped to the floor. Orli cursed in Hebrew and immediately felt her mother's disembodied heavy gaze on her neck, causing the hairs on the back to prickle up. She crouched down beside the debris and dug into the bottom of the small Gucci purse before drawing out a snub black pistol barely larger than her closed fist.
Much as she hated to use German weapons she had little choice when it came to fitting a pistol with her other essentials into something so small and stylish as a black Gucci. She stepped out of her shoes and hunkered down slightly to catch the slide of the Glock between her knees. As she racked the slide back to chamber the first round from the magazine the protruding sights tore her stockings. Another curse and another wave of matriarchal shame before she stepped silently through her front door and into her apartment.
Jun.18.2004