8 CHARLOTTE MILLER
October 17
I awoke to the sound of knocking at my bedroom door this morning. My eyes flew open, though I kept still as I lay in bed. My heart was racing at the thought of an intruder in my home. I propped myself up and listened for another knock, or perhaps some footsteps, but none came. Fifteen minutes later, I mustered enough courage to slip out of bed and approach the door. I pressed my ear against it and listened again. Nothing.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” There was no answer. Renovations on the second floor had been on hold for days, as the crew waited for baseboard and trim materials to complete the job. The house felt eerily quiet, though the phantom echoes of all the sawing and hammering still rang in my ears. Is that what I’m experiencing now? Was the knocking
