After a 20 minute drive back to his 2-bedroom condo, Dwayne went inside and flipped on the light. The living room was just as he'd left it: spotless. The carpet was vacuumed and dust covers on the couch and love seat were unruffled. He walked through the open dining room and casually ensured the salt and pepper shakers were touching each other and perfectly centered on the table. As he went to the kitchen, he turned off the light in the living room and turned on the kitchen. Under the florescent lights, the kitchen seemed to be one big reflective surface. The floor was waxed to a brilliant shine and the counter-tops and stove were immaculate.
Opening the fridge, he noted that there were seven beers aligned on the second shelf. His gaze flashed over the condiments in the door arranged from shortest bottle to tallest. He grabbed a beer, opened it, threw the cap in the trash bin inside a cabinet, and moved down the hall to his bedroom.
The bed was painstakingly made and centered in the room against the far wall. The low hum of his computer in "sleep mode" was the only noise. Dwayne liked quiet. He set his beer on a coaster on the computer desk and began to remove his clothing. He untucked and unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. Smoothing out the sleeves he laid it across the back of the computer chair. After unfastening his shirt suspenders, he did the same with his undershirt and pants; placing his shoes under the foot of his bed. Emptying his pants pockets, he carefully arranged the contents into the top drawer of the nightstand.
In only his boxer shorts, white socks pulled up to the knees, and eyeglasses, he left the room with his keys in hand. Dwayne went into the guest bedroom, which was an exact duplicate of his own room, minus the computer, and went strait to the closet.
