He put the phone back in its cradle and went downstairs to investigate. With a cautious ease, he opened the door that led into the garage, and flipped on the light. In the corner where he wanted to put the treadmill, there it sat, gleaming in a pool of light, all shiny and new.
Bob looked around the room, but there was no sign of a break in, no sign anyone had been here. The place was locked as tight as he had left it.
He went down the concrete steps to the floor.
He stopped and paused.
He looked around again.
“Impossible. This has to be some kind of a joke,” he replied, as he walked over to the machine. Sure enough, it looked just like the one in the ad.
While Bob stood there, he watched as the plug lifted off the ground. It turned, floated over to…
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