A fictional comedy. The ending below is an original continuation of the short video.
She had only gone downstairs for milk.
The refrigerator hummed. Warm light fell across the wooden cupboards, and beyond the kitchen glass the patio shone with rain.
Then she noticed the man outside.
A dark hood. A pale, expressionless mask. Not a word.
She put the milk down so carefully that she almost convinced herself she was calm. Then the patio door began to slide open.
“Oh!”
She backed around the kitchen island, one hand reaching for the counter. The man remained at the doorway.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
A woman in lilac pyjamas entered carrying a large black rubbish bag. She looked at the masked man with the weary patience of someone discovering a familiar chore still unfinished.
“Michael, you said you were taking the bins out.”
She pushed the bag into his hands.
The young woman stared. Somehow, that was more confusing than the mask.
The woman in pyjamas finally noticed her.
“Who’s she?”
The answer Michael could not give
The masked man looked from one woman to the other. The bag rustled against his hoodie.
“Outside,” the woman in pyjamas told him.
He turned and stepped onto the wet patio with the rubbish. She watched until he was moving toward the bins, then slid the door closed.
The young woman stayed behind the island.
“You know him?”
“Unfortunately for his plans to avoid housework, yes.”
“He was standing outside wearing a mask.”
“He was supposed to be standing outside carrying that bag.”
There was a pause.
“I’m Sophie,” the young woman said. “I’m staying upstairs.”
The other woman’s expression changed.
“The guest room?”
Sophie nodded. “I booked it for the weekend. Michael let me in this afternoon. He said he’d told you.”
The woman closed her eyes.
“Of course he did.”
The message nobody read
Her name was Helen. It was her house, the upstairs room was her guest room, and Michael was her husband.
“I was working late,” she explained. “He offered to handle your arrival.”
“He was very helpful.” Sophie glanced toward the patio. “Earlier.”
Helen picked up her phone. There was a message from Michael, sent hours before.
Guest arrived. All fine. Milk in fridge.
Below it sat a second message.
Trying costume for tomorrow. Don’t laugh.
Helen looked through the glass. Michael stood at the wheelie bin, still wearing the mask, trying to lift the lid without dropping the bag.
“A costume?” Sophie asked.
“A charity haunted-house event. He volunteered to stand in a doorway and look unsettling.”
“He’s good at it.”
“He’s had years of practice standing in doorways instead of finishing jobs.”
Sophie laughed once, unexpectedly. She put a hand over her mouth, then laughed again.
A perfectly ordinary problem
Outside, Michael finally got the bag into the bin. He pulled the mask up over his head and turned toward the kitchen, pleased with himself.
Helen opened the door a few inches.
“Michael. Did you tell our guest about the costume?”
His smile disappeared.
“I thought you had.”
“Did you tell me our guest had arrived?”
“I sent a message.”
Helen held up the phone.
“You also sent a message asking me not to laugh.”
He looked past her. Sophie stood beside the counter, safe, no longer frightened, and trying very hard to keep a straight face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was checking whether you could see the mask through the glass.”
“Yes,” Sophie replied. “Very clearly.”
“Right. Useful feedback.”
Helen waited.
“And I should have warned you,” he added quickly.
One final request
Michael started inside. Helen pointed down at his boots.
He looked at the rainwater dripping onto the threshold.
“Outside?” he asked.
“Boots off first.”
He sat on the step, the mask beside him, and began untying his laces.
Helen put the kettle on. Sophie retrieved the milk.
“Tea?” Helen asked.
“Please.”
For the first time since coming downstairs, Sophie could hear the refrigerator again.
She looked at the man on the step, then at the woman reaching for three mugs.
“Your listing said this was a quiet house.”
Helen considered that.
“It usually is. Getting him to take the rubbish out can be a bit of a drama.”