Sneaks
Liza Phoenix, 1995

We all have one of these creatures. She crawls around your feet unseen and trips you on the stairs. She hides your keys for the hundredth time and just as you lash out, frustrated, places them back in the first place you looked. She grabs that important letter you are waiting for as the mailman puts it through the door and scurries behind him until she can shove it back into his sack, so that it goes back to the depot to be redelivered the next day.

She watches you pull a new pair of stockings from the pack, so sheer and sleek and perfect for a night out, and she grabs at them as you ease them over your heal, tearing a ladder a mile high. Do you leave the house and wonder if you really turned off that light, the radio, the stove? Even if you did, she will turn them back on. Silent and stealthy, a malicious, odious sneak, you will only hear her cackling as your stomach drops like a lead weight when you find your credit card has reached its limit after a 4 course meal at the classiest diner in town. Captured here after scratching her fingernails over someone's prized vinyl records, could she be on her way to your house next?
-Silva

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