Sen hardly sleeps. She suspects her guest behind the sycamore is the same. Pulling her shawl tighter, she notes the distance between herself and the ax. She steps out, closes the backdoor. This one’s not here to see the doctor.
“’Evening, Grandma…” says a voice in the darkness, realizing he’s been found out
“It’s Miss Sen,” she quips, amused but cautious. “And I’ll forgive you just this once.”
Snorting, the guy slips out. Eyes sharp and daring, brown and familiar—
Sen barely stops herself from blurting the name. Her estranged brother looks clueless, jealous—
“Grandma,” Lustro dares, then walks away.
*Inspired by the prompt stroke of midnight from The Daily Post.