He heard a noise in the house that he was pretty sure was the wind moving through the third floor hallway, where he had left the eastern window open, partly as a reminder to himself to get the blinds fixed, which he believed was just a simple matter of tweezing out debris from where the lift cord met the valance, and though it had rained once and dampened the carpet up there, the fear of mildew making a mess of the entire level, and especially the small office he had on the western side of the house, through an overemphatic dark wood door, just served to strengthen the reminder, which he told himself when he heard the noise and reiterated the mental note. He was wrong. The noise was an intruder. The error was his last.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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