Yellow Tea

In the hush of an ordinary home, where silence should feel comforting, something begins to stir. A faint murmur drifts from a rarely used bathroom at midnight. Shadows slide across a bedroom ceiling when the branches outside are still. Metallic clangs echo from inside a locked garage. Footsteps circle the driveway in slow, deliberate loops. Warm breaths rustle the bushes at dusk. Laughter—high, mo...