On a stormy night in a small cabin, the unnamed narrator is certain they will be murdered before morning. Lightning briefly reveals the living room, and the narrator imagines their own body dead on the wooden floor with blood pooling beneath them.

The cabin’s electricity has been deliberately cut, and the narrator believes the person responsible has already killed someone else tonight and intends to kill the narrator next. The narrator thinks back to how everything began with what seemed like a simple cleaning job that has now led to this life-or-death situation.

Searching for a way to defend themself, the narrator moves from the sofa toward the kitchen, reasoning that knives or even a fork could serve as a weapon. In the dim light from the kitchen windows, the narrator steps onto the linoleum, slips, and crashes to the floor, painfully striking an elbow.

While trying to get up, the narrator realizes the floor is wet and sees crimson stains on their palms. The narrator concludes they slipped on blood, and since they are not injured, the blood must belong to someone else—for now.

The narrator manages to stand and feels along the counter for a knife block but cannot find it. Then footsteps approach, and the narrator senses someone is now in the kitchen watching, realizing too late they have underestimated a dangerous person and that they may be about to die.