Her feet easily found the stairs in the dark. It was a trip she had made about three thousand times over the past ten years. She felt the ruffled edge of her nightgown brush her thigh with each step she took. Her fingers trailed up the bannister to her right.
When she reached the top, she veered off to the left. She slowed her approach as she strode down the hallway. With her toe pointing out in front of her, she searched for the familiar furry form she knew would be there. When he toe came in contact with the sleeping dog, she deftly stepped over him.
Finally she reached her goal. As her hand stretched out to grasp the cool brass doorknob, her fingers curled back on themselves and she hesitated. Suddenly she was filled with an unusual foreboding, as if something was lurking on the other side of the door...
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