You wake in the middle of the night with a start. Your heart is racing. You try to catch your breath and tell yourself that it was just a very bad dream. You think you heard someone calling you by name. You internally chastise yourself for letting your exhaustion get the better of you and for not checking each of the rooms in the tiny house to ensure that they were indeed as empty as you previously believed them to be. You take a deep breath; you're being paranoid, you tell yourself. The house is as silent as a tomb, and the only sounds to be heard are your own ragged, desperate breathing. You try to laugh at yourself; you're just being silly. You try to lay your head back down; only when you shift in the couch, you hear the tiniest crinkle, a sound like plastic wrapping being jostled, ever so slightly. You run your hands along the couch cushion until you come across the culprit. A small circular candy no bigger than a dime. In the darkness, you can just barely make out the black and white swirls on it. You wonder what kind of candy it is and what flavor it might be. You think passingly about trying it, but there's no way of telling how long it's been trapped between these cushions, so perhaps it's best if you don't. You wonder how you didn't notice it before. You set the candy down on the floor beside the bed and try again to lay your head down to sleep. Your heartbreak hasn't slowed despite your best efforts to calm yourself. Each time you close your eyes, you can't help but suspect that something is watching you. You fight to keep your eyes closed and calm yourself despite your rising panic. You don't fall asleep again.
