He was grateful that people can be careless, before unhesitatingly proceed to trespass into the cyan-painted house.
The man in wounds dropped himself after shutting the door, clearly relieved that, at least for a moment, he would be hidden – and probably saved. Sighing while wondering why his life could be in such a mess, he took a quick glance throughout the room he was in, and found out through the waving curtain and the carelessly-left-open window, that the sun has risen and thus it has been hours since his peaceful night life ended. Despite his tired self, he managed to stand up and pull a sofa to block the front door – all out of his fear and insecurity, albeit unreasonable ones. Sighing once again, he then turned around to explore the place that from then on he would call home.
Floor dusty, windows blurred, the building that will be comfortable if only more spacious, was more of a huge storage room than a house. Well, he must admit that there is a living room, a kitchen and a bedroom – but only because there are rooms: one with a small television, one with a long table and a stove on it, and one with a bed. These were not the only room, but that was all the rooms meeting the requirement to be a specific room, for the rest of the items within a room are pretty much random. Dolls in the bathroom? A coffee dispenser next to the said television? A laptop under the bed? The man smiled when he discovered how this room can be so messy, so disorganized; so much like his own back in the day.
His stomach wailing was what led him to open the refrigerator (which, by the way, is next to the bed for some reason), and in the next moment found his mouth full of marshmallows. By pure chance the man looked at the expiry date of said sweets, and suddenly he was in the flickering state of just-keep-the-marshmallow-in and throw-up-before-the-marshmallow-makes-you, for he could read the date but could not remember the day’s date. The marshmallows would expire right around the corner, but maybe not that soon, or so he thought back and forth. If only his empty stomach didn’t siphon the chewed marshmallows right away. Not long after that, the man fell asleep without a care for the world, hoping he would feel otherwise after a good rest.
When he woke up, he didn’t know whether he should be grateful, for he was woken up from a nightmare, but still he was woken up by an unpleasant alarm clock at an unpleasant time. He was thinking of going back to sleep but dismissed the idea when he noticed it was already 4 p.m. and the owner of the house might be home anytime soon. Next to the alarm clock was a photo frame face-down, and he told himself it was an accident that the frame was flipped face-up, revealing the two persona that might be the house owners. One was a big, muscular guy that seemed to be able to crush skulls without hesitation, and the other was a slim, young woman that most likely be the only one capable of taming such a beast. Who knows what can be done by such a beast should he found out someone broke into his house, so again out of his unreasonable fear, the man stood up and started cleaning the rooms, hoping that the pleasant surprise would at least cover the crimes.
There was something peculiar that the man noticed as he was tidying up the room and (trying to) arranging the items in that house: there was mostly only one of each item. There was only one cup, one plate, one spoon and fork, one laptop. He didn’t notice this when the rooms were messy, but it was as if the whole house was declaring that there was only one person living there – of course except the photo frame and the king-size bed that hinted otherwise. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that these facts are intentional, but why would someone make clear the fact that he’s alone, to no one but an accidental trespasser? It couldn’t be that the house owner had anticipated trespassers, but at the thought he shivered and quickly continued his work. When he was finally finished, he found a piece of paper and wrote something that he later on left on the table. It says:
“I have entered your house without permission this morning, due to an emergency situation.
I have also taken some food from the fridge.
In turn, I have cleaned the house and tidied up most of the items.
You’ll do well to lock your door next time.”
He was never really good at conveying messages.
It was dark when she reached her house. Indoors was no exception.
She did wonder how she could power through the room so silently; rattles and clanks from below was the norm. Then again, she always wondered how she could power through the day, only to find herself on her bed the next day. “Hectic” was an understatement, and again for another day, she paid no mind to her surrounding and expected to find herself on her bed the next day. “Tired,” her body wailed, and she succumbed to its protests in no time.
In the next day, there was something more surprising than finding herself on her bed: it was that she didn’t step on her laptop when she got off the bed, that she instantly found her toothbrush upon stumbling into her bathroom, that she didn’t have to shove things aside to make room for her breakfast. “I can’t believe it,” she screamed in her mind, for the house was what it wasn’t for the last three months: clean. When she went around the whole house in awe, she found that not only her whole house was clean, it was also neat and tidy. She felt a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she fell to her knees, sighing, smiling to the miracle.
When she found the note, she giggled to the awkward lines and thanked god there was such a thing as a kind trespasser. She was reading the note as she was changing for her work attire, walking here and there, half-dressed with the note on one hand while a smile grew from her lips. She didn’t know that some food were missing; she didn’t even know what food is in the fridge as she had been eating outside aside from breakfast of bread and honey. When she checked on the fridge, which to her own surprise was beside the bed, she found a plastic bag with a few marshmallows left, then threw it away when she noticed it has expired. “What idiot would eat expired food,” she thought as she checked if there was anything else on the fridge. There was plenty.
With the state of her house that day, she doubt that she would need any miracle anytime soon, yet she wrote a note as if the trespasser would again step into her house at night. It says:
“Thank you for cleaning my house. I suppose I shouldn’t be angry for the food.
Did you eat the marshmallows? They were expired. Go see a doctor right away.
Well, you are always welcome as long as you clean the house.
In fact, please don’t leave the fridge next to the bed. That felt awkward.
P.S. I didn’t left the door unlocked for you specifically, but I’m glad I did.”
And with that, she set off the house to try and survive on her own in this harsh world.
What kind of luck brough himself here, he thought. Once again he found himself before the same door, surprisingly yet fortunately still unlocked. Being able to stay away from the day in a familiar place feels unreal, much unlike his first visit; there’s a sense of belonging, that childish feeling of having a tree house or a cave – a secret base. He thought being able to have such immature thoughts amidst the dangerous situation meant that at least he felt safe.
Upon finding the note left for him, he smiled – he should’ve learned his lesson to not judge a person by their appearance. All the fear, the insecurity, all perished as if they were never there, and this gave him such a liberating feeling; though it was kind of ruined by the marshmallow. It was true that he puked in front of his “boss” and have to, again, run for his life. ‘Might as well make myself home,” he thought as he pulled out some chips and watch the television, his eyes jumping here and there wondering how he cleaned all these rooms in the first place. Fear can do great things.
And with that, a new life started for both of them. Now she had something to look forward to when she went home: a note from him, and of course the clean house she effortlessly get. Even if the note only represent the faintest of idea, she was relieved by the fact that she no longer has to be alone. For someone who was alone and broken for a long time, even a hinted existence of another person in the house is reassuring. At least she wouldn’t have to be alone while waiting for her beloved to return. At least she could call someone else a ‘family’.
It became routine for him to ‘hide’ in her house, though since then he didn’t really need to run from someone anymore. He promised himself (and subconsciously, her) that he would find a decent job, once he was sure that he was free from the clutches of the underground. Now and then he bought food with anything he had left in his wallet, but was a bit disappointed that she didn’t notice. Well, at least she never mentioned it in her notes. He kept doing it, anyway, since he had not had someone to take care of for a long while – and buying food is the most “taking care” thing that he was capable of. He thought perhaps it could make up for the times when he couldn’t take care of his wife and daughter.
The woman who lost everything, the man who disappointed everyone. Neither knows the story of the other, but through each other they found a reason to live, and a place they could call home.
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