I hear a noise downstairs. I slip into a pair of slippers and take the steps slowly, quietly, so as not to disturb the intruder. The living room is dark and apparently empty, but I see a shadow of light leaking from the kitchen entryway. I step softly across the carpet. I peer into the kitchen.

It is Amanda standing at the open refrigerator door, her little bear Bosse tucked under one arm, a quart milk bottle in her hand. She seems to be trying to decide whether to take a drink. The light from the refrigerator illuminates her pale blue camisole, her silvery panties, her smooth bare skin. She brings the bottle to her lips. She drinks.

I take a quiet step into the room, but Amanda evidently senses something. Bosse falls to the floor and disappears to the far side of the refrigerator.