Perfectly Human

I can’t find reason why, Bea’s cabinet opens so often. No people or cats, I’ve jumped all around. Still… no answers to be found. The kids stomped in the room and others too, floorboards tested. Anything conclusive… no luck. It responds to questions though. Not all of the time, just enough to ask, “what the f***?”

I’m charging the cameras tonight for tomorrow. It opens so often, outside of my office. It’d be difficult to miss. What I see, hear, and experience, everyday from my desk. Rarely does it not chime at the mention, of cherry cobbler or 1950’s women’s fashion. Interrupted often. We don’t complain or fright, because it’s an entertaining mystery. Had we not went without internet, we would’ve missed the strange happenings. Almost like a friend never met, or… perhaps my brain’s rotting? Off-line, Spiritualism’s old appeal still shines. What if suddenly we all remembered an ancient custom, with our ancestor’s we’re to dine and set the wine?