Page 8 of Trick or Stalk
“Why?”
“Because I picked it.”
“Ah. Mature.”
I close the closet door.
He looks around the room before glancing back toward the hallway. “That one mine?”
“Yup.”
“Bigger?”
“No.”
“Better view?”
“Of trees.”
“Hot neighbors?”
“We don't have neighbors.”
His eyebrows lift. “None?”
“Nearest house wasn't visible from the road.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“Close enough.”
Wilder disappears down the hallway.
A second later, his voice carries through the cabin. “My room has a dead bug the size of my fucking hand!”
“Make friends with it.”
“I'm setting it on fire.”
“No.”
Silence.
“Wilder.”
“Fine.”
I shake my head and walk back outside for the rest of our shit.
The sun is already sinking behind the mountains, shadows stretching between the trees. Leaves cover the ground in shades of red, orange, and gold, disturbed only by the narrow tire tracks leading to the cabin.
It’s quiet.
That's what I want.
No questions.
No curious neighbors.
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