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Danger ‘Afoot’

My arm was hardly inside our bedroom groping for the light switch when I sprung back into the hallway.  Something wasn’t right.  I could hear my husband’s voice tucking our kids in across the hall.  Which meant that he hadn’t grabbed my arm.  (Insert pounding heart) So who had?

I tried again, inching my forearm to the light switch and pressing up against the wall.  Only there it was again, the sensation that I’d pushed against someone.

I smacked the switch.

Nobody.

Not behind the door.  Not chillin’in our closet.

Nobody…anywhere.

Which was when I patted my sweat-shirted  sleeve and felt the soft boing of something inside.

Something…like an orange felt shoe stuffed with cotton polyfiber.  The shoe that was no longer attached to our stairway scarecrow but dangling pathetically from my sleeve.

I, uh, have no explanation.

 

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