Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound was driving her nuts. She burrowed her head deeper in her pillow. She could ignore it.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She was determined. She was not going to let the drip bother her. But where was it coming from? She'd never had problems with leaky faucets before.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Rolling onto her back, she stared up into the darkness. How long had she been awake, listening to the drip? The rest of the house was silent. Even her husband wasn't making a sound.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she gave in. She sat up, threw off the thick blanket, and put her bare feet on the cold, hardwood floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Something wasn't right. The room had more shadows crowding the darkness then usual. She finally identified the source of the drip as the shadows moved closer.

The End


copyright © Sherri Serna 1998 All rights reserved.

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