Carefully
concealed behind sport coats and neatly pressed pants trying not to accidentally step
on the perfectly polished loafers, I wait as quietly as possible. My heart pounds in my throat and excitement
has made my mouth dry with anticipation.
I worry that my shallow breaths will be heard, so I try holding my
breath to no avail. Then I hear muffled
voices which reassure me my location will be detected at any moment. Footsteps creep closer and closer. The closet door is quickly opened and we both
shout, “BOO!” My Papa is home from work
once again.
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