TRENCHES
It was not right. There was no reason for it to have happened again, but it did - a slowly seeping outward patch of wet in the grey cropped carpet.
The day of the next great leak had been a mess for sure, but this was worse still.
The crew had been at it all day, their jackhammers bouncing and skipping and chipping away at the cold cement floor.
The chandelier in the foyer swung back and forth, the dangling crystals clinking lightly with each sway. The glasses and plates in the Chinese cabinet rattled and clanked ominously, as though any moment they might leap from their perches.
Somewhere I'm the house, in a dark and secret recess no doubt, two mottled orange cats quivered in terror.
And then, just as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. The grumbling voices of the workers faded off into the night and with a brief revving of engines, they were gone.
The house settled inward with a soft sigh of shifting timbers.
A thin white sheet of dust coated the walls and floors.
In the basement, a network of trenches had been etched into the slab of cement floor. A pair of shovels lay abandoned next to the excavation.
It was all over, for the day at least. Peace had returned, a moment of silence amongst the chaos.
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