“Is everything alright, darling? What on earth are you looking at?” she asked. Her husband had been looking steadily at the power socket midway up the kitchen wall, toast in hand, for the past fifteen minutes or so. “Nothing, nothing at all” he replied, captivated by the darkness of the holes and the mystery of what he couldn’t see beyond.
A pair of mums, a pair of daughters and a pair of fluffy dogs, all six heading off over the parkland just before mid-morning, still a sleepy coolness in the air, a misty sunlight throwing weak shadows over the grass. How simple, he thought. How perfectly simple.
Up in the night, a restless moonlit night, he woke from the dream of life into a world in twilight play. He stood undressed at the window, the garden plants engrossed in a noisy midnight meeting, unaware that he was eavesdropping. And then, suddenly, the unmistakable sounds of laughter from a group of girls carried over on a gentle night-breeze, idling not far away. He watched and listened from the curtain’s shadows, dead to it all, intoxicated by the scent of insentience.