By Jeanette Lowe
Those first few weeks are okay. Sometimes we chat in the hallway. She lingers, seems to want company. Picks up letters addressed to long-gone tenants, turning them over, feeling the weight of them. A scavenger.
Then one morning she’s just standing there in her open doorway wrapped up in her sheeny dressing gown, eyes full of dread, shoulders hunched and frozen. I stare, say, You okay?
She hisses the words: “I saw a mouse.”
Mice don’t bother me. I haven’t noticed a thing.
A week later she’s in the doorway when I get home. “I got someone in. They set traps and took away….” She gulps, as if she’s close to vomiting. “Said they’d be back, but it’s gonna be three months.” [Read more…] about Invasion