I wandered through the house, like a small child at an open house inspection. I nearly ran into a pane of safety glass, as I noticed a shiny object in the backyard, perhaps a bird, perhaps a toy bird. The glass was very clean. The poison from the DIY cockroach bomb had settled all over the crockery and food, the dead insects would be ready to vacuum in several hours. The kitchen smelt like a mixture of rain and headache. My only choice now was to wait for the villagers to come to my door, application form and cash deposits drawn like pistols, talking about power points and saying "cute", the man is wearing glasses, the women are getting angry, the baby is just for show. They probably don't even own the baby.

When the villagers come to door, I will hide underneath the table in the dining room, knees drawn up to my chest.
When the villagers come to my door, I will breathe shallow breaths from up in my stomach.
Waiting for the front door to splinter.
Waiting all winter (summer).