The Man in the Basement

Chapter One

Shirley woke up with a smile. I think you would too if you were as pretty as she was.

She had a cute little nose, a pointed chin, and lips that seemed to invite you to come closer. And her eyes - those eloquent eyes - expressed something that was difficult to put into words.

Shirley sat up in bed, tilted her head to the right, and caressed her long jet-black hair. Her smile was there still, as she stared vacantly at the wall.

It was about time to get started on her next book, wasn't it? The last one was immensely successful, and she had no intention of falling short of her audience's expectations. Yes, she would definitely give them what they wanted.

.....

Sizzle.

Shirley had just added chopped sausage, garlic, and onions to the melted butter in the pot on the stove. She was giving it a little stir with a wooden spoon, and purred with delight as the aroma tickled her nose.

All of a sudden, the spoon was abandoned. Shirley whirled around in her red dress, laughing wildly. After a few rotations, though, she stopped just as abruptly as she had begun.

An awkward silence ensued in the kitchen.

Shirley grabbed the colander containing cooked spaghetti, emptied its contents into the pot, added salt and pepper, and mixed everything thoroughly.

"Le petit déjeuner est prêt!" she sang.

Shirley had prepared two portions of this petit déjeuner. One was hers, as you might expect.

The other was for the man in the basement.