The house smelled of animals. Perhaps birds, all the windows were closed. Or snakes. The heating was on. Definitely dogs. And at least one cat. But no, there were no animals there. None that moved at least. But.

T thought he would back out quietly, out of the living room, along the hall, backwards through the kitchen and back out through the window. Quietly, very quietly, feeling each backward step as he took it. A good idea but much too late.

He put his foot down in the wrong place.