30 … 31 … 32 … 33 …
I can still hear the count even as I run farther away from it.
34 … 35 …
I need to find a place to hide so they can’t find me. I dash about the house weighing each possible location with the precision timing of a jack rabbit running from an over-sized falcon on the hunt.
Too tall for under the coffee table.
Too obvious behind the curtain.
Too wide to slide in-between the fridge and wall.
36 … 37 … 38 …
I’ve convinced myself I am running out of time but have no clue how long it was agreed they would count.
Outside is out-of-bounds.
No way am I crawling under there.
What about hiding in plain sight? Maybe they won’t think to look for me if I am near yet quietly invisible under their noses?
39 … 40 …
Found it. Perfect spot. As the count continues to rise, I inch closer to home base. I fold myself over and tuck my legs up under my own embrace. Wrapped in an old blanket, I make myself as small as possible, trying to mimic the discarded blanket thrown into the corner in a heap.
41 … 42 …
It takes serious skill to sit wound up under hand-woven woolen fabric not divulging a sound or shuttering a breath.
As soon as they are done counting and head off in the wrong direction looking for me, I’ll jump up from my oxygen-poor lair and make a run for base.
43 …
I’m sure to make it back before getting caught.
44 …
Unless, of course, they are going to count to 100.
That’s a damn long time without moving under a heavy cover.
MKat Reclamations 