Outside My Window
It was nothing.
It had to be nothing. The subtle cracking of twigs outside of my window, the sound of dirt crunching under heavy feet.
Absolutely nothing.
I wouldn't look through the blinds. I wouldn't shine a curious flashlight through the screen. I wouldn't go investigate outside with my 15-inch-tall dog as my only protection.
I would not let my mind run wild, thinking up every possibility of what that noise could have been. I wouldn't dwell on the fact that it sounded eerily similar to human footfall just inches from my house.
No, of course I wouldn't do any of that.
I would stay in bed while my beloved Chihuahua mutt slept peacefully atop my blankets. I would shut the window and lock it tight. I would write off that noise as an animal- a rabbit, coyote, bear, anything. Then I would go to sleep and forget about it.
Because this was not television and I was not the protagonist. I was not a victim or prey. This was real, raw, and admittedly mundane life.
And that noise? That was nothing.