I wondered if there was a thief in my house.
Hiding in the bedroom, I locked the door and tried to call 911 with trembling hands. In my peripheral vision, I saw a huge bulge in the blanket, as if someone was hiding inside, so I quickly turned the handle to try to rush out of the bedroom.
"It's so noisy!"
Margaret suddenly threw off the blanket and sat up, glaring at me angrily. "It's so early in the morning, can't you let me sleep?"
She was lying on the bed where Matthew slept in her pajamas, holding his bath towel in her arms.
Seeing that I was staring at the towel, she deliberately put it under her nose and sniffed it. "Matthew has been away on business for six and a half days. I miss him so much."
This scene made me feel so sick, and I endured the nausea and asked, "Margaret, how did you get in my house?"
She smiled proudly, "Matthew recorded my fingerprints before he went on the business trip so that I could come here whenever I missed him. His house is mine."
I smiled bitterly. No wonder Matthew, who usually doesn't care about anything at home, would beg for the administrator privileges when installing the fingerprint lock.