Chapter 2
The story gets worse. I had managed to relatively unwind after dinner, although I kept one ear c****d for odd noises like the doorknob jiggling or fingernails scratching at my windowpane, even though I lived on the third floor. The kitchen window, anyway, was just off a landing so my “fingernails on glass” paranoia was not totally unfounded.
But I heard nothing but the sound of my TV, which I was using on this night to catch up on half a season of recorded episodes of Modern Family. It helped to have something to make me laugh.
At bedtime, I seriously considered taking the sofa, but then thought I was letting my intruder win if I avoided my own, very comfortable bed. So I went to my hall closet, pulled down fresh linens, and remade the bed, even though I had just done the same
