The driver pulled up to the house and checked her phone again; who was she supposed to be picking up? The company – White Gloves – worked through an app that had all the information; the client’s name: Brenda; the pick up and drop off addresses, as well as the date and time for the job, and any other additional information that might be required. A simple job, pick her up at her home, drop her off at the airport. Easy enough, felt like a good first job with this new company. Something similar to what she was doing before as a cab driver, only now there was a lot more money and security. But along with that came more expectations and pressure not to fuck it up.

She checked her watch, watched it click over to the hour, the pick up time. She looked up at the house but didn’t see any movement. The company had stressed the importance of being on time; they lived by the motto that if you weren’t five minutes early then you were late. That same dictum didn’t correspond to their clientele who seemed to live by their own rules and their own clocks. She was told to wait, and the client would come when they were ready.

So she waited.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes went by and there had still been no movement. The thought crossed her mind that she should honk the horn and let the person know that she was there. Maybe they had been inside waiting for a signal and thought she was running late. No, that was something she would do as a cab driver. That was not something the White Gloves did. So she continued to wait.

After another ten minutes she began to get nervous. Was she at the right address? The right day? The right time? She confirmed and re-confirmed all the information from her phone, everything checked out. Then she scrolled through looking to see if there had been any special instructions. Maybe the client was up there waiting for her to come up and collect her bags? She had been told to simply park and wait; but these clientele often expected above and beyond what might be written in the contract.

She debated for a while longer, not wanting to screw up her first job with the company. When it was forty-five minutes passed the pick up time she decided to do something. What if there had been an accident and the client was lying injured on the floor, and she was just outside in the driveway twiddling her thumbs? Wouldn’t it look better on the company if she was a hero that saved the clients life? She decided to go up to the door and peek in the window, see if she could see anything.

She got out of the car and the cold air bit at her, the first signs that winter was around the corner. She pulled up the collar of her jacket tighter around her neck and started climbing the marble steps up to the house. She had to pass through an ornate iron gate with the words [Insert Words Here] stylized above it. An interesting choice, must have been some inside joke.

She stood at the door. It was large, twice as tall and three times as wide as she was. So big that you could drive a Mac Truck through it if you could get it up the stairs. There were no windows on either side, and the door was solid through so she had no way of checking to see any movement in the house. She could poke around the outside of the house and find a window, but that wouldn’t look good on the company if their driver was creeping around like a peeping tom.

She had a choice to make; she could go back to the car and continue to wait, or knock on the door and see if everything was all right. She thought about calling her supervisor, but she knew what they would say; the job is done when it’s done, and that she should continue to wait.

It had been almost an hour and she was growing impatient. She told herself that she was doing this for the good of the client, that she was concerned and wanted to make sure that they were okay. She raised her fist and knocked on the door. If the client was reasonable then they wouldn’t mind. And if it got back to the company and they fired her, then so be it.

She waited and listened. There didn’t seem to be any movement coming from the other side. She stepped back to try and take in as much of the house that was possible, looking up at the windows of the second floor and beyond to see if anything moved.

How long was she supposed to reasonably wait? What if they had found another way to the airport, or cancelled the trip all together, and had neglected to tell them? Again, her mind wandered to the image of the client sprawled on the floor with her leg busted open and bleeding out on the tile and crying for help.  She took a chance and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. For the good of the client, she reminded himself.

She pushed the door open.

Inside it was a big, black void of nothing; no entryway, no stairs, no tables, no walls. Just a black emptiness that made her dizzy with vertigo to look into it. Just black. Printed ten feet tall and hanging in the void, floating in that Nothing, giant white block letters:

[Error 404: House Not Found]

She closed the door, walked back to the car, decided to wait a bit longer.