It started one night in January. Karla was watching Jeopardy when the old platform rocker by the front door groaned, then sprang back as though an unseen occupant had stood up suddenly. The next thing she knew, she was standing in the doorway to kitchen and all the lights were on.
Either the chair thumping or her subsequent hollering had spooked Mr. Watts, her cat, who had gone from the couch to the top of the bookcase. By the time she'd coaxed him down, Karla had missed Final Jeopardy. Over the next six months it became clear that this was the whole point.