Jon sat comfortably in one of the living room chairs.
"How's your lemonade?" the woman asked, smiling. Why was she always smiling?
"It's good," Jon answered. He was about to put the glass on the table to his right, but he found that he couldn't move.
"I'll take that," she said, grabbing the glass out of his hand.
"What? I can't ... move."
Suddenly, the door to the foyer closet opened and a man with a scruffy beard emerged. "Is he properly sedated?"
"Yes, sir," the woman said, nodding.
"What's ... going on?" It was more and more difficult to talk. Jon felt so woozy.
The man knelt before Jon and looked straight at him. "Look into my eyes. Look straight into my eyes."
Jon obeyed, but only because he couldn't look anywhere else. Whatever was in that lemonade made him completely paralyzed. He couldn't move at all.
"Now, listen to me," the man said.
"Did you want some more lemonade?" the woman asked.
"Huh?" Jon asked. He looked down and saw the empty glass in his hand. Had he finished it? He could have sworn that he had only taken a couple of sips. "No thanks."
The woman smiled, then took the glass out of his hand. "I'll take that," she said.
Suddenly, Jon felt like they weren't alone. "Does anyone else live here?" he asked.
"Nope. Just me and my daughter."
"You're not married?"
"No. My husband ... passed away a few years ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she said, her smile coming back. "We're happy enough, even without him."
Jon checked his watch. "You know, I think maybe I should ..."
"Oh, of course. I'm sure you had something planned."
"Not really, but I need to do my homework and ..."
"You don't have to explain."
Jon stood up and made his way towards the door.
"Come back anytime," the woman said.
"Sure," Jon said. Then he opened the front door. At the back of his mind, he was sure that something was different, maybe even wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Then he left the house.
