The first thing that struck him was her face. It looked a little tired, but the eyes brightened up when they had taken stock of him. They seemed a little appreciative of his presence, as if grateful for a pause in the flurry of activity inside the house. The mouth moved then, the corners pulling up in a welcoming smile. The lips opened. “Hello,” they said. “What can I do for you?"
       He detached himself from the individual features, trying to focus on her as a person. He hurriedly pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Hi,” he said, looking up to her eyes. “Sorry, but could I use your bathroom?” He grinned in embarrassment, his hands starting to creep back up to the pockets of his jacket.
       “Sure.” Her smile widened as she moved aside to let him through. “Come on in.”
       He hesitated for a moment, and then stepped through the door, exhaling loudly. “It’s cold out there,” he ventured awkwardly.
       “Sure is,” she replied, turning away from him to close the door. “The bathroom’s right down this way.” She rounded a corner and shook her head at the dishes covering the kitchen counters. “Such a mess. You know, getting ready for Christmas and all that. Got relatives coming over.” She turned her head. “How ’bout you? Got any plans for Christmas?” When he paused, she laughed gently. “Sorry. None of my business. There’s the bathroom,” she sighed, pointed to the open door.
       “Thanks,” he nodded. He quickly closed the door and locked it, then turned. A window. He pulled aside the curtain, reassuring himself that it looked on the back yard. He stayed for a moment, longer than he had meant to, staring out the window. Two boys, twins he guessed to be about seven or eight years old, were playing in the snow. A short snowman in the middle of the yard frowned at him, its body tilting toward the ground. It was snowing. He realized he hadn’t been breathing, and let out an abrupt sigh. A girl joined the boys, running through the deep snow, and tripped as she neared them. The boys laughed as she floundered in the snow. Then her disheveled head appeared above the white, its face red and its expression contemptuous. However, as if realizing the absurdity of her situation, her expression lightened, and her mouth widened in a laugh as she pulled herself out of the snow and began to play with her brothers.
       Half-smiling, he snorted indignantly, dropping the curtain and turning back towards the door. If only they knew. He’d put on a good show, and he was fairly proud of himself. He’d done pretty well so far for not planning much in advance. It’d never been easier. The woman was so unsuspecting, so naïve, so innocent. And the children. They obviously had no idea. Jim Levinson, probably on his way home now, had no idea either. Never been easier, and so simple. Go in, put on a good show, plant the bomb, get out, smiling all the way, thank you, merry Christmas! He had to be precise, though. He had to do this right. It would be just like him to screw something up now when he had gotten in so easy.
       He dropped his backpack to the linoleum floor. He worked quickly, methodically. Couldn’t be in here too long, they’d get suspicious. He chuckled to himself quietly. Couldn’t be in here too long. It was already mostly assembled. That was pretty convenient, but that’s what Steve was. He was just plain convenient right down to the bone. He snorted again, provoked by the thought. There was always someone else to do his dirty work. Steve wouldn’t risk his butt for anything. He had his faithful followers for that. Steve’s job was to rake in the money.
       He frowned, rubbing a drop of sweat from his forehead. Steve. The guy had no clue. He was just there, always there. They didn’t have much of a choice. Like this job. Didn’t even know these people. It was just, here’s this job, go do it. Easy. That’s what he had said. “Easy,” he muttered under his breath, setting the timer. His hands were shaking. Didn’t even know these people. His finger paused on the button. “Innocent,” he mumbled, tripping over his tongue like dead weight in his mouth. He shook it off, standing. He’d been in here too long. Time to leave.
       He started to turn to the window again, and stopped himself. Time to leave. He pressed the button with a shaking finger, and fumbled to unlock the door. Forty-five seconds. Merry Christmas, get outside, take off. Never see it coming. Had to stay calm. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he stepped out, and instantly realized his horrible mistake.
     Why hadn’t he seen this? How could he do something so stupid? He gasped for air, turning back and forth indecisively between the hall and the bathroom door. Such a long hall. A long hall and a corner. The bathroom and the garage were far separated from the rest of the house. Such a long hall. It wouldn’t reach. The hall, it messed everything up. It wouldn’t do enough damage. It was all set up wrong. There was no one else down here, and time was ticking. Hadn’t he looked at the house plans before? It was all set up wrong. He had to get out. He stepped toward the hall and halted. He couldn’t back out on this. If he came away from this job without getting it right, Steve would get him. He’d have to run, and keep running. Once it went off, there was no way he’d get another chance. It wouldn’t get anyone, least of all Levinson. Levinson was the key. He groaned, turning toward the bathroom. But what could he do? Time was ticking. He could see it through the open door. Thirty seconds. He silently cursed the glowing red digits. Time was ticking, he couldn’t stop it now. Levinson would be home soon. Twenty-five seconds.
       How could he have missed the hall? It was her. She had been talking to him. He shook his head desperately, moving toward the hall. Her face. Ridiculous. He was never distracted before. Twenty seconds. He had to get out. There was no reason why he should be caught in the house. He messed up, he should run. The bomb wouldn’t kill Levinson, he’d failed. But he couldn’t go back to Steve. He turned back to the bathroom.
       The children were laughing, building another snowman just outside the window. It would get them, he realized with a pang. That didn’t seem fair. No it didn’t matter. Fifteen seconds. It was for Levinson, it could get his kids instead. Someone else could get him later, some other way. Not now.
       No, he couldn’t leave now. He wouldn’t leave. No more Steve. This wasn’t right. He glanced toward the bomb. Time was ticking. He looked at the children outside. One of the boys was grinning, throwing a snowball at his brother. They were laughing. Innocent. He could taste the word like blood in his mouth. He couldn’t. He shook his head again. He was in the bathroom now. The evil device that had changed his life in a moment loomed before him, the flashing digits taunting him. He would go back. Nothing would change. He would go back, back to Steve. Or he could run. He could change his name, hide. Ten seconds.
       He realized it then. Standing outside the bathroom, as the oven timer sounded. He couldn’t stop it now. Soon they would all hear the blast, the crumbling of plaster, the splintering of wood. The wail of sirens. The explosion that would never touch them. He wondered if he would hear it.
       Five seconds.
       He turned then, once more. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He saw the red digits through the bathroom door as he pushed it open. Everything else around those numbers seemed to fade. Somewhere a door slid open. The children were coming inside, far away down the hall. He heard the woman open the oven door. The front door opening, a man’s voice, knocking on his consciousness. “The Levinsons next door gave us some Christmas cookies,” it said. The voice didn’t quite register in his mind as he reached for it. He didn’t know what he would do with it when he got his hands on it, but he reached for it anyway, falling down on the bathroom floor. He wondered if he would hear it. The digits flashed across the tiny screen then, like eyes staring him down, inquiringly, accusingly.

       A story appeared in the news the next day about a bomb that went off at a house in Portland. No one in the family of five was injured, though police were still investigating the possibility of another man’s presence in the house at the time of the explosion.