Anna lowered her phone to rest on her bosom, wondering what was going on with Theodore today.

“Nah!” she said shrugging off the possibility of her husband being depressed.

He couldn’t be: he was Theodore, the most positive person she knew. She started putting her files in order before her auditor arrived. She stared at her papers. The seemed blank until she picked them up and looked at them properly, then figures showed up quickly.

“Darn sun, gonna make me blind!”

She started looking at the figures more closely. They were good, very good.

“That can’t be real,” she said.

A business had to have a couple of downsides but it seemed like hers had none, it was impeccable. It was as if drugs were being sold, but even cartels have slow days. She pressed her intercom.

“Hermione, what time does the auditor get here?” she asked, exhausted.

“She’s scheduled for next week Friday, ma’am, not this Friday,” Hermione said, a bit embarrassed on her boss’s behalf.

“Gosh golly, I’m getting old, aren’t I?” Anna said with a giggle.

“No ma’am, you’re just tired.” Hermione giggled as well.

“All right then, early day for me,” Anna said, packing up. “Can you make us some coffee? I’ll be there to share a cup with you so you can tell me about your date tonight.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Hermione signed off.

After a cup of coffee and some thoroughly enjoyable girl-talk Anna made her way to the parking lot. It was quieter than usual and Anna was nervous, her stilettos stabbing the concrete floor with a clicking noise. A strange sound came from a dark corner, as if someone was spilling screws. She stood there, a chill creeping up her spine. She sneaked towards the noise, her stilettos giving away her position. When she reached the point of interest there were alien markings quickly disappearing as if the area was processing.

Whatever it was she saw, she probably shouldn’t have, she thought. She hurried away into her Range Rover and in a jiffy she was inside, slamming the door and speeding off.

“It’s a mistake, it’s just an illusion or, better yet, a hallucination: stuff like that only happens in the movies,” she kept murmuring. “I’ll call Theodore, he’ll know what to do!”

She grabbed her phone and speed-dialed her husband. The phone automatically connected to the car’s bluetooth. An eerie sound engulfed the whole car. At first it was sort of a clicking sound, like an alien language. Then it slowly morphed into her son Allan’s voice.

“Mom?” he asked.

Anna couldn’t respond, she was so confused that she couldn’t even bring herself to utter a word.

“Mom, what’s going on? Are you okay?” his voice was stern now.

“What’s going on?” Theodore’s voice came from the background, “Ask her what’s wrong, I can’t talk, I’m driving.”

Anna acted on instinct and dropped the call. She gulped and slowed down the car, glaring at the road, calculating the events of the day and trying to figure out what was going on.

“Huh? Weird,” Allan said, dropping the phone into the cup-holder.

At a red light Theodore picked up his phone to call his wife back, but an email stole his attention. He pulled down the taskbar and the name of the theoretical physicist he left a massage for was in bold, and a few words from his email were visible. Theodore’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Is that Mom?” asked Allan, one eye on his father and the other hidden behind his raven-dark hair.

“No, it’s a new friend of mine,” Theodore said, putting his hands back on the steering wheel and moving forward slowly.

“Oh, cool, can I see?” Allan said jumping at his father’s phone.

“No!” Theodore stopped the car abruptly.

“What?”

“Don’t go touching my phone like that,” Theodore spat, “Privacy, ever heard of it?”

The cars behind them were honking at them, so he took off.

Allan turned slowly and looked Agnes in the eyes, sending her a surreptitious question. Agnes shrugged innocently and looked at her dad who was focused sternly on the road.

Anna pulled up onto her driveway. As she got out, she paused and reeled as the side of her forehead started aching. Once she was inside she headed straight for bed, sighed in mixture of pain and confusion, and shut her eyes. Alas, the doorbell rang just as she was about to drift out of consciousness.

“Theodore probably lost the key again,” she said, still half asleep.

“It’s op…” she tried to yell, but her head started hurting even more, so she stopped.

She picked up her phone and texted Theodore.

It’s open, dude!

She then sighed in disbelief at her husband’s clumsiness. Her phone buzzed once more and she picked it up again.

Mom, Dad said to tell you that it’s not us, but we’re about two streets away.

Her eyes widened. Who would visit them at this hour? Probably Allan’s friends. She got up and practically crawled towards the front door, her head still aching so fiercely. She opened the door. A man stood there. He was in his late forties, he had a smooth black moustache with a few strands of grey, tanned skin, and gelled hair. He stood at 5 feet.

“Good Afternoon, ma’am, if I may ask, is this the Fitzgerald residence?” he asked, with a puffed-out chest and a gleaming white smile.

“Yes, I am Mrs Fitzgerald.” She loved saying that. “How may I help you?”

“Well, ma’am, I received a mail from your husband earlier regarding the peculiar incidents that have taken effect in and around the house and I came to offer my services as they are fitting for such a predicament,” he said, with a subtle bow of his head.

Theodore’s car pulled up and he got out in a hurry, walking anxiously towards the man.

“Hello, Doctor,” he said, shaking his hand vigorously, “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“It is but a pleasure, my good man, believe me, you’re helping me as much as I am helping you,” the Doctor responded with zeal.

“Please, do come in,” Theodore said, as he gestured his visitor toward the door.

Tell us: What do you think will happen next?