just a tiny bug

I scrambled back through the patio door as night deepened, eager to find a high perch indoors. Loping quietly past the hallway, a faint, rhythmic scritch-scratch drifted down from the narrow ceiling hatch leading up to the attic stairs. With an enthusiastic leap—THUMP!—my knee clattered hard against a stacked metal toolbox, sending a roll of masking tape rolling down the hall, but I didn't glance back. I wedged myself into the tiny triangle behind the half-opened hatch door, pulling my long knees right to my chin. Shhh... I froze rigid, breath held tight. High in the dark rafters, tiny wooden beams creaked, followed by the softest flutter of settling dust.