The Pitter-Patter of Little Feet
I’ve been hearing things. Not big things. Small things. A little scratching maybe, some oblique shuffling perhaps. Nothing I could put a finger to concretely. However, after I convinced myself that I wasn’t hearing things that weren’t there, that I was, as a matter of fact and record, sane (or what passes for sane in an insane world), I determined that some thing or things were moving around behind my refrigerator and stove.
Moving. Invading. Interloping. And that spot was a good place to interlope. There’s a nice sized gap between the stove and fridge and the wall. There is also a spot in that gap where some pipes come up through the floor. Having peeked back there, I had seen that the hole isn’t exactly a tight fit around the pipes. There was room to maneuver, a space through which something intrepid might slip unnoticed into my domain. Mostly unnoticed that is.