Housework Horror

Whirring, whirring, whirring. The vacuum passed once, twice, a dozen times across the matted carpet.

He frowned in concentration at his occupied hands.

She heard the clicking clunk of swallowed floor matter. A sound that once satisfied, it now grated with repetition. She’d passed over that very spot last week, yesterday, and this morning.

His people needed an upgrade. He carefully tapped the flashing arrows.

Numbly, silently, masked by a roaring tool, she shuffled around the occupied couch. She glanced at his head, bowed in solemn screen-scroll. The cord snaked obediently behind. She vacuumed under his propped-up feet.

Shifting slightly, he activated a virtual addition.

Whir, clink, clunk. She pulled the vacuum tail along, into the next room, near the basement stairs. Its machined voice called eerily down the cemented hole; it reflected in dull echoes from unfinished walls and floors below.

He could add more people to live in the addition.

She paused, transfixed by the darkness beneath, consumed by the darkness within. Pulling impatiently, the sucking beast edged near the naked stairs.

Another notification; another tap.

She let go of cord and machine. Black pulled outward, propelling inward. She fell, she flew; free for a few, fleeting steps.

He thought to relieve himself. Maybe in a few turns.

Whir, clunk, clunk. The vacuum engine moaned, feebly trapped between wall and banister; masking a quiet, feeble plea far below.

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