The Crinkle in the Night
It always starts the same way: a whispering rustle… the ancient language of foil. The time is 2:36 a.m. The house sleeps. Except me. Drawn by a hunger that’s less craving and more curse, I drift barefoot through shadowed halls, led by the siren song of snacks. The pantry door creaks—not by hand, but by pact. I […]