Smart Lock
At midnight my smart lock notified me that the front door had been opened with my fingerprint.
I looked down at my hand and heard the bedroom closet click shut.
Fear that an unknown person has entered a supposedly safe space.
At midnight my smart lock notified me that the front door had been opened with my fingerprint.
I looked down at my hand and heard the bedroom closet click shut.
The receptionist apologized and said nobody had stayed in Room 406 for several years.
I did not tell her I had spent all night listening to someone on the other side of its wall begging me not to open my door.
At checkout the clerk asked whether the woman in my room would also be leaving today.
I had spent the entire night pushing the dresser against the connecting door because someone kept trying the handle.
I woke up to find my closet door open, although I always lock it before sleeping.
The key was still in the lock on the inside.
The dispatcher calmly told me the intruder had already left my house.
Then she whispered, “Do not react; he is listening on the other line.”
The police found no sign of forced entry after I reported footsteps inside the house.
As they left, one officer quietly pointed to muddy prints beginning beneath the stairs.
My neighbor texted to say someone had been standing at my upstairs window for ten minutes.
I was outside reading the message when the curtains moved.
The doorbell camera showed a man waiting on my porch with his back to the lens.
When I opened the live view again, the porch was empty and he was facing the camera from inside my hallway.
The location app says my missing husband’s phone has been following me home every night.
Tonight the dot stopped moving because it is already inside the house.
My phone keeps changing every message I type from goodnight to let me in.
This evening it changed the front door code before I touched the keyboard.
My son’s school sent home his class photograph with one child circled in red.
My son says that is the boy who has been sleeping in his closet.
Room service called to ask whether I wanted breakfast sent up again.
I had not ordered the first tray, and the dirty dishes were stacked inside my shower.
I hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign outside before going to sleep.
In the morning it was hanging from the inside knob.
I nailed the basement door shut after hearing footsteps below it every night.
This morning the nails were lying neatly on the upstairs side.
Something slowly unzipped the tent from the outside while we lay silent in our sleeping bags.
Then my friend whispered that he had zipped it shut from the outside before climbing in.
The old instant camera developed a photograph of the room before I pressed the shutter.
The picture showed the closet door open behind me.
I heard someone unlock the front door while I was home alone, but the chain kept it from opening.
A hand reached through the gap from my side and unhooked it.
I folded a shirt from the laundry basket that was far too large to belong to me.
It was still warm.
I heard the ceiling hatch above my bed open while I was pretending to sleep.
A few minutes later it clicked shut from inside my room.
A shadow passed beneath my bedroom door while I was home alone.
It stopped, turned around, and came back without making a sound.
I thought the dark shape in my closet was my winter coat until it breathed.
Then the coat on the hanger beside it breathed too.
The police searched my house after I reported footsteps and found nobody inside.
As they left, one officer quietly asked why there was a lock on the inside of the cupboard under my stairs.
My spare key disappeared from beneath the flowerpot three weeks ago.
Tonight I found it on my pillow.
The bedroom door handle turned slowly while I watched from the bed.
When it stopped, a second handle appeared beneath it and began turning too.
I put a camera in the crawlspace after hearing movement in the walls.
The first recording showed someone installing the camera from the other side.
My security system keeps reporting motion in Zone 4.
The installer says my house only has three zones.
Every downstairs window was locked when I went to bed.
In the morning, one latch was locked around a human finger.
I heard footsteps upstairs even though the police were standing beside me in the living room.
Then their radios announced that officers had found my body upstairs.
Food kept disappearing from my kitchen, so I blamed the old refrigerator.
I stopped laughing when I found the empty wrappers stacked neatly beside a mattress in the attic.
The doorbell rang while I was standing beside the disconnected chime box.
The sound came from the coat closet.