So it’s 1:30 am, Ken’s gone to bed, and I’m still up sipping red wine and trying to eke out a short story.
We live in an old house, one that creaks and groans and settles.
Just now, the heater (I think) (I hope) made two distinct, sharp knocks into the silence.
And all I can think is, I’m damn well not going to knock back, because I do not want to get an answer. O.o