Late, as always.

I'd watched as 5 people had entered the house, 4 by the door and 1 by the window.
I would've gone in myself a long time ago, but I never quite mastered the art of fence hopping, and I was now extracting myself from a shrub which was obnoxiously placed behind a low wooden fence.

After a few minutes struggling and cursing, I roll out of my twiggy trap and stroll on as though nothing had happened.
Because, people like me don't get caught in bushes.
Of course, people like me don't usually have sarcastic shirts, ripped jeans or old trainers, but I like to think that I'm 'colouring outside the lines'. If you're wondering what type of person I am, by the way, it would be a lanky, somewhat geeky looking 15 year old with medium length brown hair, which never fails to look different every time I look at it. My square, moderately battered glasses add that distinctively bookish look to my already awkward persona, which makes me almost completely average in every way.

Apart from the foliage on my face, of course. But that's not usually there.

I casually approach the fence to the old, detached house, scan the other side for any sneakily located bushes, and hop it over.

The front door is so 4 chapters ago, and the back door has yet to be used. Of course, I could always use the window, but who wants to look like they copied someone else?

I go to pull the door open, then realise it's a push door, and do that instead. Luckily, no one saw me. Doors have always posed a problem to me. I like to think it's because I have a natural dislike of barriers and limits, but it's more probable that I'm just too clumsy to function completely normally.

I slip inside, and hearing voices from the other room, make my way through the hallway and into the front room.

"Guten morgen, chaps!"

The End

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