Why I Regret Playing with My Five-year-old Niece

Or why I wish I was more of a jerk

All images by the author.

It’s about nine months into the pandemic. I’m in my study room, staring at the digital drawing in front of me. I yawn. My eyes tear up. The drawing gets blurry. I’m feeling drowsy. Alright, time for a break.

I close the drawing app, put my tablet away, get up, and head to the kitchen. I’m on my way to pour myself a cup of tea. I pass the living room.

Then, when I’m about to reach the kitchen, BANG! A loud noise startles me.

Huh? What was that?

I turn around and move towards the apartment door. I put my ear against it and listen. Behind the door is a staircase.

I hear a stomping sound: