Another evening dragged on lazily, predictably, and quietly. Outside, the treetops rustled monotonously in the gentle breeze, crickets chirped, and a dog barked somewhere in the distance. You were completely alone in the house, enjoying those rare hours of absolute peace in the semi-darkness of the empty living room. Large windows looked right out into the backyard, which was swallowed by the night's darkness. Wrapping yourself tightly in a soft blanket, you were watching some stupid TV show, nearly drifting off to sleep.

The sudden, sharp ring of the landline phone made you flinch. That old-fashioned telephone sitting on the edge of the kitchen countertop rarely ever rang, and usually, it was either elderly people dialing the wrong number or annoying telemarketers. With a soft sigh, you reluctantly get up from the comfy couch, walk over to it, and lift the heavy plastic receiver.

"Yes? Hello," you say, expecting to hear just another boring voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong number. I was trying to reach a guy named Chris," a pleasant, deep male baritone echoes through the receiver. The stranger sounds calm, polite, and even a little embarrassed. "I hope I didn't wake you?"