On reading this the first time, Petr blinked several times, feeling as if he was not fully awake, and then he read it again. He experienced briefly that feeling one gets upon finding themselves accused of something one has no knowledge of, causing one to suddenly doubt their own innocence. As a law-abiding citizen, this would inevitably be followed by the satisfaction of all parties jovially realizing the error that has been made. ‘What hoax or horseplay could be the cause of this letter?’ Petr thought, having calmed himself of that momentary anxiety. Nevertheless, his doubts had not been fully dispelled, and ignoring the eggs, which were now cooked beyond his preference, he walked hastily to the front door to confirm the situation, deciding breakfast could not be savoured fully with such doubts playing on his mind. The door flung open to a beautiful morning, however it was of the sort where the clear blue sky deceived one from behind the bedroom window, and only the cool breeze and musty smell in the air told truthfully of the likelihood of rain later in the day. Petr tutted, for he often fell foul of this meteorological trickery, and many a morn would find him halfway down the garden path before realizing the climate was not sympathetic for shorts and sandals. This was the case today, but not considering himself fully dressed yet, Petr felt he had gained something at least from venturing outdoors in his undergarments, reminding himself to bring an umbrella and anorak with him later for the journey to work. This thoughtful digression was suddenly interrupted by a realization. Petr’s house, that previously stood alone, was indeed now solidly conjoined to his neighbour’s, as if they had always stood in that way; as a neat, semi-detached suburban coupling. In fact, the ivy-covered houses expressed such an expression of tranquil normality, that no passer-by would ever consider that they were currently symbolic of the most absurd occurrence one would ever imagine of a property. Petr took several paces nearer, as if some closer inspection could perhaps explain what had happened. Of course, it didn’t, and he found himself speechless, looking around himself, perhaps for some kindly passer-by who could shed some light on the situation. But it was still early, and of course the street was quiet. The only activity was from two pigeons pecking at some chips spilling out of a newspaper wrapper at the foot of a dustbin. The rustling sound they were making caught Petr’s attention momentarily, distracting him from his shock. After jerking his head from one to the other for a second he directed himself straight for his door, and scurried hastily back into his home, slamming the door behind him. Petr’s return to the kitchen was acknowledged by the brief upward glances of his wife and daughter, who were so fully absorbed in their breakfasts of muesli and fruit, that they did not think to question his distress, nor wonder what he was doing outdoors in such disarray. ‘Good morning dear’, said his wife sweetly. Petr replied in kind, but bit his tongue before informing her of the morning’s incident. ‘How could I expect such a delicate creature, whose life’s comforts are my sole responsibility, to bear the burden that her husband is in possession of a house that is squatting illegally on another person’s land?’ He swiftly concluded that her fragile wellbeing was best not to be disturbed, especially at so early an hour, and he should keep these troubles to himself, until he could come to a solution.
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