As the evening settled in, I kept glancing at the corners of the room, half-expecting another centipede to make its appearance.
Jamie was due back from work soon, and I knew there would be another round of tension.
Every conversation about these creatures felt like walking on eggshells.
The air was still thick, the humidity refusing to relent.
I found myself pacing the living room, restless, my thoughts a jumble.
The pest control visit hung over me like a storm cloud.
I picked up my phone, tempted to text the landlord, maybe delay the appointment.
But what would I say?
How could I justify it without revealing my strange attachment to the centipedes?
A knock at the door startled me, thoughts scattering.
