At 2:13 A.M., our security camera alert went off—the same sharp chime that usually meant a raccoon, a delivery driver, or nothing at all. I rolled over, half-asleep, and my wife Mara was already upright, phone in hand, screen lighting her face. She didn’t speak.
He wasn’t trying the door. He wasn’t looking into windows. He didn’t carry a package or a crowbar. He stood very still, as if he were listening for permission.
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