He waits, coiled, ready to strike.
He’s put himself in the perfect place. The door is in front of him. None can pass through without his notice. He taps on the keyboard impatiently, looking up at the slightest noise from outside the room.
Something else comes to mind and he scribbles on the list next to him. He’s ready.
Her voice cuts through the door. His muscles bunch. He touches the list and rolls the chair back slightly.
Nothing. The voice fades. Silence.
He sighs and resumes his tapping on the computer. She can’t stay away forever.
There’s a click at the door. He tenses. The door opens and she passes through. He grabs the list and lunges at her, already speaking and waving the list before she can even react.
She steps back to flee, but the door has already closed. There’s no escape. He rattles down the list of things while she ducks from this space to that, nodding vigorously, dodging. The chase is getting to her.
She finally stops and looks at him.
Yes. Yes! She’s listening. She takes the list.
He’s worn her down. She nods. Yes, she says. Yes, she’ll take care of these things. All of them. Yes.
Yes! Caught! Captured! Complying!
Yes she says, stumbling toward the door, weary. She’ll get on it right away.
She opens the door, and steps through. Nodding. Assuring. Right away.
And as the door closes, she says, “Tomorrow.”
Click. Door is closed.