I stroll around the bedroom, and my eyes fall upon the bed. I go for a nap, but I hear a key turning in the lock. I panic. Who could be here? I’m not expecting anyone. Not yet. I dive into the closet and hope it will be a safe shelter. I hear the mystery person move around the house. As footsteps approach the bedroom, I hold my breath. They cannot know my whereabouts the results could be disastrous. They might shoot me, they could knife me. Too many variables. I hate variables. Not knowing…I can’t. I have to know, schedule, and stick to my plans. Deviating, like this, is not pleasurable. But I make do and take silent breaths. This person stretches out on the bed. They are unaware. I will make do with this plan change. I charge out of the closet, enjoy the surprise played out on their face, and stick my knife through their heart. Another victim. And now I must formulate a new plan, with more room for variables.