Last night I was about to get into bed and I saw a small brown thing that looked like mulch or dirt on my covers at the bottom corner. I went to grab it and it jumped–a graceful arc off of my bed onto the floor. It made me laugh, the surprise of it.
I did not search for him. I was tired I was going to bed. But I thought about him. How did he get in here? Was he drawn to the cool shade of the indoors? Was he curious about the warm bodies that reside here? But my biggest question and greatest concern was: how will he ever get out?
Anne Foster 