I was just beginning to think I could make out the form of a person standing in the entry of the kitchen. It was slightly taller than I and lacked the rigidity of the doorframe. It seemed like a person, but that would be crazy, right? It wasn’t really all that clear, after all; just a nearly transparent image – more of an outline, one that I could easily be, for who knew what reason, imagining. The dark made it impossible to actually see anything anyway.

There it was again. Another creak. The form, or whatever it was, hadn’t moved. It was as still as the wall, itself. Maybe it was just my imagination after all. I glanced out the window again. Lightning danced across the sky momentarily revealing some downed branches and an overturned lawn chair. I loved that chair! I’d rescued it from the dumpster of my apartment building the summer before and replaced the ripped nylon webbing with heavy muslin in a chili pepper print. I hoped it wouldn’t be carried too far before the wind died.

I turned to check the kitchen doorway again, and my heart, which had begun beating more rapidly since the last loud thunder, seemed to be of two minds because now it stopped completely. There was no form any longer; only the faint outline of everything that had slowly been growing familiar over the past week of my living there. So had I seen something?

The lights flickered on again, though the storm raged on outside. My eyes surveyed my surroundings. Nothing had changed. All was well. Tea. Tea would be good company for such a night. I started over to fill the teapot. I would have at least two cups, and who cared if it was caffeinated on the edge of evening? The floor creaked just as I stepped on the threshold of the kitchen.

to be continued . . .

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