Midnight Footprints

The power went out at exactly midnight, plunging the house into silence. I used my phone’s

flashlight to check the hallway, calling my wife’s name. No answer.

From the kitchen came the soft scrape of a chair moving on its own. I told myself it

was the wind—until I saw muddy footprints forming on the floor, one by one, walking toward me.

My phone buzzed. A text from my wife appeared: “I’m still at work. Who are you talking

to?” Behind me, something exhaled.