The noise pushed Shelby out of the house and across three fields. It was cool by the stream, and Shelby hid, muddy-footed and hungry, staring at the cabin, not really believing people came here on purpose.
Shelby’s house was full of feet waiting to stomp on any words you were fool enough to let out. “So what, Shelby?!” Stomp. Stomp.
Shelby wanted something that filled you up even more than a bellyful of food — space.
The screen door squawked open, and Shelby saw a woman reading a book at the kitchen table before it cracked shut again.
Room to think.