At 10:23 P.M. the doorbell rings.
Dean’s upstairs reading in the living room, and I’m downstairs, so I wait to see if he’ll answer it.
I hear the squeak of the door being opened, then silence. After a minute I shout, “Who was it?”
“No one. They rang the doorbell and ran.”
“That’s kind of thoughtless when we have little kids sleeping.” I go in the kitchen to get some chocolate pretzels. “Those youths! Those darn youths!”
“I can see them running. I think I’m going to chase them.” He goes upstairs to get his shoes.
“Are you really going to go out and chase them?”
“Oh, it’s just kind of fun to chase them and scare them.” Now he heads down to the basement. I don’t see what he went to get–maybe a big stick? A flashlight? And he’s off into the night.
(The weirdest thing is that I’m having vivid déja vu while I’m writing this, but Dean has NEVER PURCHASED A BAG OF CHOCOLATE PRETZELS before today.)
And now Dean’s back. And yes, he says it was an extra-bright flashlight that he went to fetch from the basement. He didn’t catch the doorbell ditchers, but he saw that they looked about Isaac’s age and had dark hair.
Those darn youths!
Now all is still again. The only sounds are the occasional rustle of a page turning, the soft clicks of typing, and the loud crunching of pretzels.