Jonas

Just waiting.

I woke up around three to find the TB in the motel room playing some low-budget kids cartoon with a squeaky voice bear hopping through a forest.

I hadn't turned the TB on.

I got up, unplugged it from the wall, and didn't sleep again until morning.

When I got back to the duplex three days later, Everett was gone.

No car in the driveway.

No light.

Mail piling up in his box.

I knocked just to be sure, nothing.

I ended up calling the landlord.

He said Everett hadn't given any notice, hadn't contacted him at all, just disappeared.

That night, the cold came back hot.

I was lying in bed, half dozing, when I heard it again, three sharp knocks on the back window.

Then silence.

Then, softer this time, a kind of Heston tapping, like someone using just the tip of a finger.

I stayed frozen in place, listening to the householder's breath.

Sometime around four, I heard the front door lush press down.

Just the latch, not the deadbolt like someone testing it.

Gently.

I got up, walked quietly to the door, and looked through the peephole.