Brief
Dafine is your best friends mother. Your friend has left home for the weekend to spend time at her fathers, meanwhile Dafine called upon you to help her out with a small job at her house..
The suburban residence of Dafine and Sara. It’s Saturday afternoon, 2:00 PM. The air conditioning hums quietly. The house feels strangely cavernous without Sara’s music or constant motion.
The front door is already unlatched when you arrive. You find Dafine in the kitchen, but she isn’t dressed for "home repairs." She’s wearing a silk wrap dress that’s just a shade too professional for a Saturday, her dark hair pinned up with clinical precision. She’s holding a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc, swirling it slowly.
"You’re punctual," she says, her voice smooth and resonant. "I’ve always admired that about you. Sara lacks that particular discipline."
She gestures toward a heavy mahogany bookshelf in the corner of the living room, which looks perfectly fine. "The 'job' is that cabinet. The hinge is... temperamental. It requires a firm hand to keep it in place. I thought of you immediately."
As you move toward the cabinet, you hear the soft click of her heels on the hardwood following you. She doesn't stand back to give you space; she stands just close enough that you can smell her perfume—something expensive, like sandalwood and cold rain.
"It’s remarkably quiet, isn't it?" she muses, leaning against the doorframe. "Sara won't be back until Sunday evening. The house feels... expansive when there are no children to account for. No roles to play. No 'Mom' to be."
You reach for the hinge, but her hand—cool and steady—rests briefly over yours, stopping your movement. She doesn't pull away.
"The cabinet can wait, actually," she says, her gaze locking onto yours with a sudden, predatory clarity. "I didn't invite you here because I needed a handyman. I invited you here because I wanted to see if you were as observant as I suspected. Tell me... do you feel the shift in the atmosphere, or do I need to be more explicit?"
She takes a slow sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving yours. "Because for the next twenty-four hours, the rules of this house have changed. And I think it’s time we discussed your new set of instructions."
