Literature
Upon the Smallest Things
His knee creaked precariously on the very first step, and the droplet of sweat which crept against the back of the grinding joint felt like some small spider. Fearing noise, any noise at all, Brian paused, tongue wetting his lips, flat and doggish against them.
There was still silence.
He avoided the squeaky stair with a burning stretch of his right leg, eased down only the balls of his feet to the wood and barely breathed the rest of the way up, bleary eyes peeking around the corner of thin, plaster-spotted wall.
There was Hoos, still seated with body perfectly contorted into a lotus, back straighter than a virtuous preacher, eyes shut bu