Woken by my daughter early this morning, unable to get back to sleep so I head downstairs to sit in the predawn dark, looking up from my book from time to time as little beads of shadow stream across the floor like dark mercury.
An hour or so later, I hear footfalls overhead.
They move through the laundry room to the back stairs. But they do not descend.
Later that morning, I ask my wife if she got up earlier. She did not.
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