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Curious Intent

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The man went about the day in a very organized manner leaving no minor detail unchecked and no mistake to be made. Some people would call it ludicrous and obsessive behavior, but the man took great care and delight in meticulously carrying out each action of his day. Deftly, he began by rearranging some of the furniture in the room.

It had been a hobby of his for a while, arranging things like this. Many people looked down on his behavior, but he saw no problem with it. A bit unorthodox, yes, but a man may live his life as he chooses to live it.

He chose first, to move the table away from its usual resting place in front of the couch, over to the center of the room, about ten or fifteen feet away from the door. The table seemed useless next to the couch anyway; for it was much too far away from the overhead chandelier and the man questioned why it had been set there in the first place. Nevertheless, it was a mute point, and the man continued on.
He then lowered the chandelier, because he thought it was much too high for him; he preferred it just within arm’s reach. Logically, it made more sense to him anyway. Imagine having to scale a ladder again and again if a candle burnt out to relight it, not to mention it provided abundantly more light to room.

For all his life, the man had been a secret workaholic and he wasn’t supposed to be in the office today, but he had managed to slip in without anyone’s awareness.

He looked around puzzled. Something was missing from the room though, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He searched about the room until he spotted a spool of thread, and then it came to him. He unraveled the thread and weaved it in and out of the chandelier. A puzzling action, for sure, but the man felt that it needed to be done and he thought that it really brought the room together.

After one final adjustment, he wiped down everything in the room clean. Peculiar behavior indeed, but he was a rather peculiar man; a peculiar man who was also a neat freak. He just hated to leave dirt, hair, and smudged fingerprints all over the place, especially after such a splendid job.
As the man took a step back towards the open window through which he had entered, he stopped and breathed a sigh of satisfaction as he looked about the room to admire his work and marvel at its simplicity and perfection. There before him stood a table across from the doorway, the chandelier hung just a few feet above, the thread woven through it, one end tied to the doorknob, and the other to the trigger of the loaded silver pistol aimed steadily at the doorway.
The murder scene was set.





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