A short story by Wodke Hawkinson
© 2012 by Wodke Hawkinson
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events in this work are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
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A soft snick sounded from the corner of the room, drawing Mica’s attention. He rolled over in his bed and peered through the shadows. A door was opening slowly, a really small door that had never been there before. A shaft of light from the door lay across his carpeted floor. Mica started to call for his parents when he heard a small voice.