You search every room. Closets. Under the bed. Nobody. Just a wet hose, coiled in the bathtub, still dripping.
So you look for water everywhere else. And here's what most people miss.
The CDC lists hidden water in your house. Ice cubes made from safe water. And the liquid in canned fruit and vegetables. Never radiator water.
You open three cans of peaches. You drink the syrup. 19 cans left.
At noon, someone knocks.
Through the peephole: Dale, from next door. He's holding a gallon jug. Full. Clear.
Dale hasn't said a word to you in two years. Not since the fight over the fence. And now he's sharing water in a drought?
He says: fresh water. Take it. I've got plenty.
Behind you, your crank radio crackles. Residents of Alder Street. Do not accept water from neighbors. Repeat. Do not accept water.
You live on Alder Street.
And Dale stops smiling. He leans close to the door and says: I can hear your radio.