Horror

The answer changed after the question

Joan Kerr had repaired the same television three times for Ned Ellis. He liked its rounded corners and the way the cabinet fitted the space beside his kitchen window. He paid in small instalments, folded so precisely that she could hear the creases when she counted them. At midnight he came through the shop door carrying its remote, although the set itself was at home. “It asked my name,” he said. Then his coat fell empty onto the floor.