I stood there staring at it.
I tried to convince myself that something heavy had fallen. A shelf. A picture frame. Something the movers dropped. Movers drop things all the time.
Ezoic
Then I saw another hole, near the hallway.
Same size. Same jagged edges. About shoulder height.
Shoulder height on Brian. Brian is six feet tall.
I walked down the hallway with my heart starting to pound. I pushed open the door to the guest bedroom, the room we’d painted pale green four years ago when we were trying for a baby that never came.
There was a third hole in the wall beside the window.
My stomach tightened.
The sound of the water suddenly seemed louder. I’d been hearing it the whole time, like background music, but now it filled my whole head.
I hurried into the kitchen.
The faucet was running at full force. Hot water. Steam was curling up out of the sink, and the window above it had fogged over completely.
