a knock at night
One night, a stranger knocked on the door, asking for my husband by name. Startled, I asked, “Who are you?” He looked nervous, glancing around as if checking for something or someone.
The kids peeked from behind the living room door, their eyes wide with curiosity and fear. “I need to speak with Mark,” the man insisted.
“It’s urgent,” he added, glancing over his shoulder nervously.