Maisse

In NY now for the Yom, being kept awake by a restless, allergic Bichon and four pairs of jeans dancing in the dryer. M's crashed out on NyQuil in my brother's room, but that's ok since he drove the whole time.
This house is still haunted, even though I'm not 13 anymore. I'm still afraid to walk by the windows at night with the blinds opened. I was around that age, 13 or so. My parents had gone out for the evening. It wasn't that late, but it was dark. I heard the Bichon barking from the front door hallway and went to see what was up. He wasn't looking out of the large glass window like he usually does to watch for passing cars and deer. He was facing the dark adjacent living room, barking and slowly moving backwards, the whole time keeping his eyes on something that wasn't there.
Is it still too summery for stories like this?