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Stepping carefully not to mess with the marks, I go back to where his shoe prints attest to his presence next to the window.
I compare them.
Yes. He walked around. Maybe he was curious. I asked him to check the house. That’s what he did.
But why are there two sets of shoe prints?
I wish I had my phone with me.
Wait… wait. I do have my phone with me. I tap my sweatpants and check my thigh pockets.
“There you are…” I murmur.
Now I have extra light, and I can take pictures of the marks. And here I am again. Playing detective in my own house.
I snap picture after picture and compare the shoe prints. There are definitely two sets. Kai’s and a smaller size. I even find a trail. A very, very faint trail starting at the wall where the window is before vanishing away quickly.
As if someone had entered the place through the window and disappeared inside my attic.
“Huh…”
This is crazy stuff.
“What the hell is going on? When the cat’s away, mice will play….” I murmur, puzzled. “Maybe that’s why the window was open. Are you kidding me?”
I keep talking to myself while checking the window, the angle, the height, and the space inside the attic.
“What is wrong with these people?”
Are these my neighbors? Teenagers who have nothing better to do? Is this a game?
What the hell?
People are obsessed with my freaking attic, and I’m the only one who’s not invited to the party. I want to know. What is it that they’re looking for?
I ponder but can’t find an answer.
Fuck them all.
I’ll clean the attic next month, paint it, and get rid of this stuff. I’ll remove everything.
“Take that, motherfuckers,” I mutter, sliding the beam of light across the wooden floors.
Yes, there has definitely been a party. People coming and going. This is strange as fuck.
How come he didn’t notice it?
Kai, I mean.
He probably saw the marks but didn’t think much of it. Or maybe that’s why his shoe prints are all over the place.
He must’ve looked at them but couldn’t find an explanation.
Anyway…
I turn off the light, grab the box, and head to the ladder.
Later, I start putting up the tree. It’s almost eleven o’clock when I’m done.
