Folds

Trisha

I could go out tonight if I wanted. Maybe have a few drinks with Dane and friends, go to a club, get a little messy. Or I could stay in, have a cup of hot tea, and do my nails.

I’m going to vote for the latter, I think. These toenails are looking a little worse for the wear, and I think they need a glow-up. After the workday I had, I could use a night in to just relax.

So I tell Dane I can’t make it because I have a headache, then smash some leftover pizza and turn on my favorite music before I head into the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, I put my foot up on the side of the tub where I can reach it perfectly and start in on my pedicure.

Ah, this is exactly what I needed. My job may not be that stressful, but I’ve never been good at working a nine-to-five.

Being crammed into a little office all day isn’t my favorite, even if I love the work I do getting our patients the help they need.

I really prefer being outside and soaking up the sunshine—when we have it, which isn’t often in Oregon.

I’m painting my middle toe when a loud hoot from outside surprises me, and I draw a line of pink polish across my foot.

I sit up, alarmed at how loud that hoot was.

Did an owl get inside the house? I live with my sister out in suburbia, so owls aren’t uncommon.

But one so close that I could hear it hooting in the bathroom?

Then I hear a crash.

Putting the top back on the nail polish, I hurry out of the bathroom. Sure enough, I left my bedroom window open, and my sister’s cat destroyed the screen last summer so there’s nothing stopping a bird from getting in.

I take quick stock of the room, but there’s no sign of an owl.

The only thing that’s amiss is my old collectible Babez set sitting in the corner on my desk.

A window on the dollhouse appears to have fallen off, and one of the Babez, the one with pink hair, is lying on her side on the porch, her skirt askew. The door is also loose.

Maybe it was a breeze of some kind, and the crash I heard was the window falling. A rather big noise for a small object.

I’ll fix it tomorrow. I haven’t played with that dollhouse in ages, and my little photography project is long dead. I used to stage my Babez and take pictures of them, then add funny captions.

Maybe I should try to sell my dollhouse online. I know they’re collectible.

Then I shake my head. No, I couldn’t part with it. I’ve been holding onto it since I was twelve, making sure it never had a mark or ding on it through every single move. Even when my parents picked up and went to Spain, and Lizzie and I bought a house, I made sure my Babez had a prime spot.

After putting the window back on the dollhouse, I return to the bathroom and clean up the nail polish all over my foot.

Then I finish the job, making a mess of it, but liking the neon pink color.

I blow on both sets of toes, hoping I won’t mess them up while I’m sleeping.

I’ll do my hands tomorrow. I’m getting tired, even though it’s early in the night, and I want a little tea before I wind down.

Lizzie is at her boyfriend’s house tonight, so I’m on my own.

While I’m dropping my tea bag in my mug, though, I hear another noise from the bedroom. I turn and head back down the hall to look around, but again, see nothing of note.

Maybe our house has attracted a ghost. Either that, or someone’s broken in. With a tickle of worry at the base of my neck, I search the entire house for the source of the noise, but turn up nothing. By the time I get back to my mug, the tea is over-steeped and cold.

Giving up, I put on my pajamas and head to bed. After curling up for a while with my book, I fall asleep with it on the pillow next to me.