She walked slowly into the small room. So slowly, as if she'd forgotten something. Mumbling softly, she turned and went through a short hallway to a larger room, still moving slowly and seemingly without a goal. She wandered to a large white freezer, opened it, and just stood there, staring, for a good few minutes.
A small cat appeared at her feet and she cooed at it, and it seemed to respond. Then it tried to climb into the freezer and she had to grab it.
Next to the freezer was the back door, a large and heavy glass door, and she and the cat stared out it for another few minutes. There were smudges on the lower half.
The cat squirmed a little and she readjusted. Its claws caught in her loose gray shirt. She cooed again, then turned and yelled and dogs appeared. They almost knocked her over, they were going so fast. She opened the door and the dogs rushed out, three large, multicolored dogs, right into the mud pit that was half the backyard.
Shaking her head, the woman struggled to close the heavy glass door one-handed. The cat was content to stay in her arms.
Yelling something again, she placed the cat on one of several small tables with equally small bowls and went to the fridge, just to stand staring at its contents, just like the last machine. There was nothing of interest, so she moved to a pantry, again staring.
For no reason, she looked out the small window in the kitchen. There were several small plants in its sill and she moved closer to mess with some tangled leaves, her bloody red nails glinting in both the overhead lights and the faint moonlight that managed to make its way inside. She didn't see how the red turned black in the shadow, even in her brightly lit home.
Giving up whatever she'd been doing, she picked out a pastel-colored cup from the nearby cupboard and went back to the fridge for milk and chocolate sauce. She took her time mixing them and, as she put the containers away, she yelled something again before going back to the door and yelling for the dogs. Her voice carried through the still night's air very well.
The dogs' nails clattered loudly on the deck, drowning out her voice as she tried to command them. Thankfully, they didn't bark as she got them through the door, and one of the smaller ones went after the cat that'd followed her.
A large male came into the room as she went back to her drink and they exchanged words. He touched her. Shoulders should seem innocent, and she didn't appear to think anything of it. Another female entered and blocked his view of the first woman as she left the room. The second two people stayed and talked only a short time before they turned out the kitchen light and also left.
He moved, the first in hours, to see into the only lit room in the house. He was able to get quite close, confident the darkness and lack of windows in her line of sight would keep him hidden.
But that also meant he had the same number of windows to look through: one. And to see through that one meant he'd have to either be on the roof of the shed or standing on the deck.
Instead of cursing, out loud or in his head, he simply left the backyard, went around the house to the front, and innocently sat against a tree in the front yard. The tree was thick and the grass tall, an abundance of tasteful ornaments threw enough shadows and showed enough shapes that he knew no one would spare his a second glance. Not even the nosy neighbor or the one who worked nights.
In this new spot, he easily saw the woman through the living room windows, one arm moving furiously like she was writing on something. She would occasionally look around, mumbling to herself as if looking for the right word.
She kept at this, alone in this brightly lit room, save for the pets, for hours. Occasionally she would mess with a small electronic device, probably changing her music. Her long dirty blond hair shimmered in the still light, its slight curls and waves moving with every slight tilt of her head. He'd never seen the color of her eyes in the light. He wondered how well they matched her hair.
The moon was well on its way to the end of its nightly appearance before the woman started packing things up. Her wavy hair bounced and glinted and shook and fell in her face, where she would impatiently brush it away, only for it to repeat that over her other shoulder. That cat got in her way several times and dipped its head in her cup many more, but she only cooed and pet it.
Even when it jumped in the window and stared directly at him, she only continued putting things away, entirely unconcerned about the outside world so early in the morning.
She didn't show any sleepiness, though. In fact, she seemed very much alive. As proved by a sudden bout of dancing. He continued watching with a slight smile as her hair and shirt bounced and flowed over her body, those bloody red nails a startlingly bold color against the rest of her.
It was time to move again. He knew that when she turned out this light. The whole house dark now, he knew she'd soon be in her room with the door closed, the two others so deeply asleep their snores could be heard even in the neighbor's yard.
He went around to the backyard again and stood just outside the heavy glass door, watching her dark shape move to her room on the other side of the house. The cat ran to him and back to her, but she paid it no mind.
When he began opening the back door as her bedroom's closed, the cat ran away to another part of the house and a dog ambled up to him. Sleepy as it was, it only sniffed him. He'd befriended all three fairly easily through treats and petting over the past couple weeks. And all the while he watched her.
He eased the door closed again, not having much trouble with it. Silent steps brought him closer and closer to her. Shivering with anticipation, he slowed and focused on slowing his breath. He wouldn't want to appear anxious when they met. That would be creepy.
Finally. He was finally at her door. He considered leaving her for just a little while longer to let her fall asleep, so this would be a real surprise, but he couldn't wait any longer. He just had to meet her. He had to see her. He had to know how soft that smooth skin felt. He had to.
The door eased open just as silently as the first, and he saw her. She was still up. She stared right at him, but she didn't react much, not any more than her mouth slightly agape. Her eyes were open wide in surprise, but her hands hung limp at her sides.
When he went to her, she just stood there. He touched her shoulder so gently, and his other hand went to her hip as if to dance, and she swayed slightly. Her feet moved a lot, but very smoothly.
He let his eyes roam all over her face. She didn't react when he ran a hand through that bouncy, wavy, shimmery hair until it came to a rope, and he screamed.