In the wee hours, she is awakened by three distinct knocks. Glancing at her husband, she scowls at him. He is blissfully sleeping. Something is wrong. He’s usually the one who hears the noises. But not tonight. Tonight, only she is summoned by the hidden ones, who rustle you from a deep sleep, then disappear. Will they knock again?
Silence returns her to her journey back to dreamland, until, a whisper in the dark reminds her, not tonight. Tonight, she is the one who must answer the call. Disturbing no one, she gets out of bed, dons her robe and disappears into the darkness. Cursing under her breath, she closes the bedroom window, reminding herself to tell her husband to cut the branch that keeps knocking against the pane, when it dances with the wind.
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