My Five Year Old Asked About A Man Who Visits At Night And I Set Up A Camera

slightly furrowed. “He’s old,” she said at last. “He smells like a garage. And he walks real slow.” She paused, adding details from whatever image she was accessing internally. “He’s nice, though.”

“Do you think he’ll come tonight?”

“I think so, Mommy,” she said, and then she looked at my face in the mirror and something in my expression must have reached continue reading …