You see, he had me hold the ladder. Gin was never very popular, not that he cared; we weren’t exactly close, but I was probably the closest thing he had to a friend. He trusted me, at least. So, I held the ladder as he broke into the old theatre. I remember, for a while, he just looked in, silent, then one leg followed the other, and he eased his way inside.
After a few moments, the backdoor opened, and there he was, waving me to come follow. Glancing over my shoulder in one self-conscious moment, I ran after him.
Tale Told 