I shall never open my door again, thought the neighbour
There she was like always. Dressed on her rosy pyjamas, smoking her fourth morning cigarette. She landed her hand on the fresh morning paper and made a gentle glance towards her loving companion, still sleeping. It was 6.30 am. Her hair is whiter than I remembered, thought she and looked at the news again. It was dark outside. Demanding drops banged the window. It was so silent.
Suddenly she heard noise behind the front door. Heavy footsteps, sudden squeak of the wet wellington. Then nothing. She looked at the paper again. "The City of Helsinki plans to declare itself a smoke-free city at the beginning of next year" she read and lighted another one. Someone tried to open the door. Sounds of movement. Scratching. Was that a small howl?
Her tottering walk led her towards the dusky hall. A key was stuck into the keyhole. Whoever it was behind the door, was becoming impatient. She looked at the door. It's silence was shaken with a furious twisting. A sound of fist cracking it's wooden surface. She heard annoyed noise behind the door, saying: "Let me in, you son of a ****, I know you are in the kitchen!" The voice was familiar. She opened the door.
Neighbour: What has happened? Is there a fire? Taiga Fox: Why didn't you let me in? There must be something wrong with my key... .... Oh dear, wrong door!