An unwelcome houseguest.

Last night I had an intrusive visitor. As I was shutting my door, in he came unheeded and unwanted. A chill went down my spine as I became cognizant of his seasonal presence. I wanted sleep not company! Yet my refined etiquette forced me to entertain, even at such a raw hour. To be raised a gentleman is an inconvenient bore. So we sat, he and I, in embarrassed discomfort. Through painstaking efforts, I was able to learn that my visitor came from the northern regions. He had a breezy voice which chilled like winter frost and an overcast stare reminiscent of autumnal decadence. His face was pale and difficult to discern, but I caught the glint of his coal drop eyes from the humble light of a reading lamp. My heater of late was broken. At times it would work, at others it would not. Tonight it obstinately refused to operate, but my guest hardly minded, brushing my apologies aside almost with an air of gratitude. I, on the other hand, was swathed in thick layers for the cold was piercing. He declined my offer to tea, but instead rudely insisted on a glass of finely crushed ice. Though I found this peculiar, my hospitality acceded to his wish, and my manners prevented me from rash critique. And so my eccentric visitor and I sipped our respective beverages in fatigued silence for a dreary while. The tick of the clock was painfully hypnotic, and I could feel my eyelids grow heavy. At some point during this tete-a-tete, I dozed off. Though appalled at my own rudeness, I must say in my defense that I’d had no sleep for at least two days and, quite frankly, my idiosyncratic guest was far from entertaining. I awoke to the sound of the blaring, rattling heater, which had kicked into action. My visitor had gone. The chair he had occupied was completely soaked. I can only assume that he spilled his glass of ice on the way out and had not the decency to clean up after himself. Quite an unpleasant experience. Needless to say, my door will be forever closed to that brazen, ungrateful fellow.

There was one peculiarity, however, which strikes me oddly. Though my visitor had clearly departed, the deadbolt on my door remained fastened. How could he have left and locked the door from the outside?