IN a car dressed in black a man sat, or nearly sat, as what he was actually doing was bouncing up and down on the seat. His eyes starred forward never blinking. His hands clutched the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him from flying out of the moonroof and into the sky. 'Come on, Come on,' he thought as he watched the house on the corner with the one light on in its upstairs window. He was the moth to the light's flame and just as the light went black so did the man stop bouncing. His grip slowly released from his anchor and his hands took on a new task. His face went serious as the mask came down.