I hear grating, chewing sounds that can only be Sophie being naughty. “Sophie,” I call across the room. “What are you into?” The tags on her collar clang as she sprints out of the room (so she can nonchalantly reenter channeling absolute innocence).
At my call, Nick jumps to investigate the area in the entryway where we have stacked our luggage and other road trip whatnots (having only recently returned home). “I don’t see anything,” he says, questioning my judgment.
“I heard something that sounds like Velcro!” I defended my perfectly capable ears. Our spring jackets rustled softly as he nudged them with his foot.
“Well,” he began, “then it was either your jacket or mine…not sure which. I’ll hang mine in the coat closet and see if you hear it again.”