An intruder

Frank woke suddenly, an animal sense rousing him. He sat up, wary and listening, sensing that something was out of place, wrong. Quietly, he rolled off the bed and got the pistol out of the night table, checking it before padding naked to the open bedroom door.

He listened closely, at first hearing nothing, but then hearing quiet movements downstairs. Someone else was in the house. Someone who had no right to be.

He quickly pulled some sweat pants on, then listened again for noises. Someone was moving around, but making no particular attempt to be quiet. He stepped silently into the carpeted hall and with all his senses alert started for the stairs. He was halfway down them when he heard a door open and a woman's voice call his name.

He didn't recognise the voice, although he was sure he'd heard it before. Whoever it was they were looking for him, and they didn't sound dangerous, although he kept the pistol ready as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

From the light through the windows it was near sunset, giving him enough light to see down the hall as a figure stepped back through a door.

"Hold it right fuckin' there or I'll blow your fuckin' head off," he rasped, pointing the pistol with two hands.