The Rambler

At last the midnight rambler had had enough. Too many thorns and locked windows. Too many fortresses he couldn't sneak into. All he wanted was to leave saliva on folks' toothbrushes and to poke around their book covers. It's not enough to be a creepy stranger anymore. You have to get training to invade other people's property properly. He was too old. Outdated techniques were all he knew. Now he just hangs out in apartment building elevators. Touches the button you pushed for the fourth floor. Licks his fingers. Eats the grime and dirt.