Timothy had continually been trustful, and Ronnie is instantaneously amiable as a result of his pleasant demeanor. Ronnie professed to be an entrepreneur, beginning an importation and exportation business in the city. Timothy gave Ronnie a warm welcome into his home, and everything appeared normal for a while. Ronnie didn't hesitate to pay his rent, cooked once in a while, and assisted Timothy in fixing the railing of the balcony with astonishing handyman talents.

Source

Nevertheless, one momentous night, Timothy's ken changed forever. On getting home from a coffeehouse, he noticed Ronnie sitting on the floor with a leather bag surrounding him, which was filled with hand tools made of steel, such as lock-picking sets, drills, and cutters, among the tools nestled a small black gun. The inquisitiveness of Timothy became a concern as he enquired of Ronnie about the stock of weapons.

Ronnie's countenance became indecipherable, and he gave a casual smile.

"These tools are for the trade," said Ronnie.

Timothy was bothered for answers; however, responses from Ronnie only brought up more questions. "At one time or another, deals call for persuasion," said Ronnie, his tone carrying implication.

As the days went by, Timothy observed that Ronnie's behavior was turning out more and more suspicious. He would go out at aberrant hours, come back late at night, in addition to his clothes having the stench of metal and dust. Timothy discovered a long-in-the-tooth paper that had cryptic notes as well as addresses, which exacerbated his unease.

Eventually, Timothy confronted Ronnie, indicting him of being a heister perhaps worse. Ronnie's confident vizard slipped, which exposed a dim glow of vulnerability. Leaning close, he whispered;

"I am no heister nor businessperson. I work for government agencies, entering places others cannot. I discover secrets and information in those places."

Timothy's heart banged as he questioned, "Does it mean you are a spy?" Ronnie chuckled and responded, "Call me whatever you like, you might call me a specialist, a spirit with a toolset. " Timothy felt snared, uncertain whether to eject Ronnie or dial 911. Notwithstanding, Ronnie's quiet behavior remained in his hands.

The following morning, Ronnie disappeared and left behind just a languid nosegay of eau de cologne as well as a note which reads:

"Thanks for the shelter. Someday, as soon as heds speaks with suspicion of scandals unraveled in quietness, it will dawn on you that I am involved. Till then, remember me not. It is harmless that way."

Timothy had a relief though mixed with great fear. The disappearance of Ronnie constituted more doubts than answers. While he read the news, he could not help but query in the mind whether the hand of Ronnie was behind the scenes, using his skills in shaping the world. Even though Ronnie was gone, he left his shadows behind, a reminder that at one time or another the person you address as a roommate might be living a secret life sharp enough to dispense with the night.

As he read the news, he couldn't help but wonder if Ronnie's hand was behind the scenes, shaping the world with his secrets and skills. Though Ronnie was gone, his shadows remained, a reminder that sometimes the person you call a roommate might be living a life of secrets sharp enough to cut through the night.

I am inviting @chilaw, @ninapenda, and @ruthjoe

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