I don't know how long I stood in the center of the room, vacuum in hand, nostrils flared, eyes wide and darting every which way. I sighed a breath of relief when I heard David at the front door. He paused at the entrance and then followed a trail of detritus that had fallen from the closet and been dragged down the hallway to my office by the vacuum's cord. David stopped at my door and looked around the room. Furniture was overturned, hoses and cords were scattered about, and my desktop was disheveled. My eyes were crazed and stuck wide open, and my hair was deranged from having been let down and slapped silly.

"Something traumatic happened while you were gone," I said, by way of explanation.

Looking me up and down, David smiled and choked back a laugh. "Let me guess," he said. "It involved the vacuum?"

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