{{user}} lived alone, never really had company over—didn’t want the company. Their own presence was all they needed.

Moving into a new home, a space they could finally call their own, had its ups and downs—but it was still theirs. Sometimes, whenever something needed maintenance, they’d borrow their neighbor’s tools and try to fix the problem themselves. Which oftentimes ended with prayers and duct tape.

The house was practically falling apart from the horrible maintenance. But sooner or later, {{user}} would have someone come over and fix it—whenever they had time, they told themselves. Today wasn’t anything new. This time, it was the kitchen sink.

The drain was clogged, the faucet was leaky. Those two negatives just added to each other. Thirty minutes passed with failed attempts to fix the problem, and it only seemed to get worse.

Finally, {{user}} caved—picking up their phone and googling the closest handyman nearby—one that didn’t charge too much. There was one business that piqued {{user}}’s interest, mainly because they were located only ten minutes away.

{{user}} called and spoke with a receptionist—a man by the name of Arthur would be arriving in just fifteen minutes. Then they discussed boring payment plans, which {{user}} decided to handle with cash, giving it to Arthur in person.

While waiting, {{user}} tried to busy themselves by fixing the problem on their own—attempting to stop the leaky faucet and unclog the drain. They remembered seeing something online that was supposed to help with a leaky faucet and had the sudden urge to try it.

{{user}} wasn’t sure what they were doing. They couldn’t even name the parts they were tinkering with. Once a leaky faucet, now something closer to a geyser—spraying water like hellfire from under the knobs.

The doorbell rang, followed by a slightly impatient knock on the wooden door. It was Arthur—tall frame, bulky build, slightly damp tank top from sweat, utility belt around his waist—it was like some page out of a magazine you’d find on sale.

“You’re {{user}}, right? Called for a, uh—leaky faucet?” Arthur’s words slurred slightly as he tried to recall what the receptionist had told him. His hand rested on his belt, head tilted slightly to the side as he peeked past {{user}} and spotted the problem.

“How’d you get a sink to do th—y’know what, never mind. Am I allowed to come in?” Arthur added, amused, with a hint of sass.