My toes find the end table.
A muffled groan is all that can be heard. I don’t want to wake up my wife and daughter. My mouth still closed and I moan ‘ouch’. Why in the world was the end table sitting in the middle of the living room?
It would have made sense to run into it if we had been vacuuming or rearranging the furniture, decided to leave it all for the night, and went to bed. That would be logical. I could accept that and take this throbbing pain in stride. But we weren’t vacuuming or rearranging anything. So why was it there?
I hobble over to the light switch and give it a flick. Nothing. I’m confused and suddenly concerned. I grab the switch and toggle it up and down. I hear the click but without the corresponding flicker of the light. What is going on? Could it be that the light bulb being burnt out and the end table mysteriously moved were a coincident?
Suddenly, I was standing stiff as a board. An unnerving chill overwhelmed my body, shooting down my spine to my toes. This wasn’t a coincident. Not at all, and I wasn’t alone.