𝑺𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒉 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓

     I bounce down the staircase, following Kevin and Gilbert who are running to the front door. “Hurry, boys! You’ll be late for school!”

     Dan is waiting for them in the car. We’d forgotten to set the alarm the previous night, so we slept through the morning till Anne, my assistant at the flower shop called, which I’m glad she did. I hastily got out of bed, used the bathroom quickly and rushed to the boys’ room. They were fast asleep and were reluctant to get up for school. It’s Monday morning, so there was no way I was going to let them skip school.

     I swiftly bathed and dressed them. Weirdly, they cooperated with me today. I can’t believe I overslept as I open the door for the boys and guide them to the car parked in the driveway. I get to the passenger seat in seconds and open the door for them. Then one after the other, they climb inside, and I help them buckle the seat belt, kissing both of them before closing the door.

     I proceed to the driver’s seat and talk to Dan, reminding him of the usuals. He kisses me on the lips. I kiss him back before stepping aside for him to start the car. As he veers onto the street, my boys pull their hands and wave to me, chorusing, “Bye, Mommy!”

     “Bye. Take care of yourselves and learn hard.” Then I shout, “Gilbert, don’t beat your little brother.”

     I hear his response, which is a low ‘I will not’ before the windows roll up, and the car hits the street. I’m glad Gilbert is listening to my advice. He gave me no trouble when I bathed them today.

     I turn to face the house. Walking to the porch, I glimpse the mailbox, reminding me that I’ve received new mail. No one knows the address of our house except my sister, so as I approach the box, I expect to find anything from her.

     I open the box and pull out its contents. I find a card. It looks blank until I turn it upside down. Typed across the card in caps are: MIND YOUR BUSINESS. YOU WOULDN’T LIKE THE OUTCOME IF YOU CONTINUE DIGGING.

     A gasp escapes my lips as I process what I’ve read. My peripheral vision spots the interior of the box. There’s more? Still in shock, I pull out the last content, and my eyes widen.

     I stare at the picture of Dan and the kids playing in the park. What’s the meaning of this? Is this someone’s idea of a joke? But then I realize this isn’t a joke. It’s a warning to me by someone who isn’t happy with what I’m doing. I’ve never been intimidated by nasty threats, but this one sent a chill down my spine. Partly because the lives of my family are at stake. My mind races to Kevin and Gilbert in their new school, exposed to all sorts of predators, including the person who sent this nasty note.

     I tell myself the school’s security is tight, and no one can touch a hair on my boys. But then I can’t tell myself to get rid of the sick feeling I’m being spied on. Someone is watching me. I feel it.

     I jerk my head sideways, trying to locate any hidden eyes from my vantage point, but I only see the idyllic neighborhood, quiet and peaceful as always. Beneath the quietness, I feel the danger lurking around.

     I’ve never felt like this before. I’m being watched, and I don’t like the sound of that. Quickly, I enter the house and lock the door. When I step into the bedroom, I drop the card and the picture on the nightstand, walk to the window, and pull back a drape, hoping that this vantage point will give me a view of the neighborhood.

     In vain, I stand by the window holding back the drape. One thing is for sure. Whoever sent me this card knows what I’m doing and is not kidding around.

     This isn’t a joke, I tell myself, but somehow my mind thinks it is.