I twist the handle, but still can’t seem to manage to twist the whole thing. Not because it’s stuck. It’s the way the dogs are quietly staring.
The long-haired black Chihuahua sits. The other doesn’t. It steps closer.
“This is weird.” My voice is a little louder. “You know this is weird, right?”
They’re not exactly blocking the hallway to my room, but I’d have to pass them to get around.
“I don’t like this game.”
I edge away from the door. The white dog mirrors my step—the other stands.
“Nope.” I point at them. “I don’t like this version of you. I liked it much better when you were dry humping the naked man. Remember him? Go find him.”
They don’t move.
“Fine. There’s more than one entrance.”
I circle the house. The stone path curves along the foundation, and flower beds crowd the walkway. They’re thick with color and already in bloom.
The camera bumps against my chest as I skip up the wooden deck stairs.
Along the back of the house, glass panes stretch the length of the hallway, and the lace curtains do nothing to hide our room doors.
I freeze at the back door.
The dogs are there.
Blocking it.
Sitting perfectly still.
I laugh once, sharp and breathless. “How did you— You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
The white-haired one stands. The other follows.
“Please don’t.”
They take a step closer.
I back away, holding up my hands. “This is escalating. This is on me. I see that now.”
I told them my plan. Not this time.
“I’m going to take a long walk.” Do I really think they understand me?
Don’t care at this point. I run to the front of the house.
No dogs.
I wait and count to ten before I slip inside, easing the door shut inch by inch.
Still no dogs.
I carry my shoes as I creep down the floral runner in the hallway beside the curved staircase.
The floorboards groan beneath each step. There’s no escaping them. They broadcast my every move, but no leg-humping dogs appear.
The hallway smells like roasted vegetables with hits of herbs. Maybe it’s a soup or stew. Either way, my stomach growls.
