Shaking.
That's what I was doing.
Shivering. Trembling. Shaking.
Knife in my hand, body before me.
I promise it looked bad, but I promise it wasn't me.

Wait
Please
Let me explain.

It was my first day of work, my first day of work in a long time. I was so happy, the doctors had finally cleared me to go out and get a job. It took me two weeks to find someone who'd hire me, two long weeks of resumes and rejection. Finally a night-time cleaning company took a chance and said yes.

The work wouldn't be glamorous, nothing like what I used to do before the accident. Still, work was work. My first job was this old mansion at the end of the rich-people street. The agency gave me a key ring and a print out of the cleaning regimen.

They said it would be an easy first job. Nobody lived there anymore anyway.
They said it would be empty.

I arrived at the mansion around eight, dragging my stiff leg up to the door. The lock creaked when I turned the key, but the door swung open easily. I fumbled for the light switch and nearly gasped when they flicked on.

The front hall was gorgeous. Elegant and lush. A grand stairwell stretched up and up with deep red carpeting that matched the velvet curtains. I remember thinking that being a night janitor might not be so bad.

I remember thinking that maybe my life was finally turning around.

Tearing my eyes from the splendor, I rifled through the printed instructions in my hands. The janitor closet was past the kitchen and down some stairs.

I took a deep breath and started my slow journey across the mansion.

Each room I passed through was grander than the next. I let myself look around with each stiff step. A few times, I wondered why the owners of this mansion even had a cleaning service. The floors were spotless, absent of even scuffs from fancy shoes. The only blemish I could see was a fine layer of dust along the shelves.

By the time I reached the kitchens, the awe-inspiring effect of high ceilings and expensive furniture had worn off. My mind had turned to the night of lonely work ahead of me.

My mind had not turned to the possibility that I wasn't alone.

The first noise happened as I passed through the kitchens. At first, I thought it was probably nothing. Some spoons rustling against the wall. Big deal.

When an oven door banged closed, I started to get worried. There was no one there, I told myself. It had to be all in my head, just nerves. It had to just be nerves.

Even still, I pressed on faster towards the janitors closet. The stairs were difficult, but manageable, and it only took me three tries to find the right key for the closet. I grabbed my bucket and mop and started back up the stairs.

The door shut behind me.
The door shut.

I ran as fast as I could, using the mop like a cane. Cabinets shut behind me. Pots and pans clattered to the floor. I could hear steady footsteps getting closer and closer. I grabbed a knife from the last counter and skidded into the front hall, panting.

They said it would be empty.
They said it would be
They said

"Hello there. No need to run anymore."

I turned around slowly and found myself face to face with a man. He was moderately tall with messy hair and a rumpled button-up. The man took a step back and motioned with his hand. Gray dust spread from his hands towards the floor. The dust gathered into a large mass then morphed into something red and velvety.

"Go on." The man gestured to the red pile. "Take a look."

I crept up to the bundle and began to unwrap it. The fabric was definitely one of the curtains from the mansion, and inside was--I quickly wrapped it back up.

"What is this. Why are you here?" I asked the man.

He smoothly handed me a business card. "My name is Hedwynn the genie, I grant wishes."

I stared at him, appalled. "This was not my wish."

"I never said the wish was yours."

The man held out his hands to make a frame, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. Stepping forwards quickly, he snatched away my mop, leaving just the kitchen knife and business card in my hands.

Wait.
Please.

The man nodded, satisfied. "If you're ever in need of a wish-granting, my number's on the card." He smiled coldly and then dissolved into gray dust as the cops walked in the front door.

I promise it looked bad, I promise I didn't do it.
Knife in my hand, body before me.
Shivering. Trembling. Shaking.
That's what I was doing. 
That's all I was doing.
Shaking.