There was something oddly soothing about seeing his son sleeping up on the ceiling. When the world was done biting at their heels and the neighborhood council wasn’t sending them hate mail, moments of peace in their household were small blessings. Kale smiled up at Colby curled into a ball, his second favorite blanket tangled around his legs, as he snored loudly. Kale made sure the spare mattress was pushed under Colby’s location on the ceiling and closed the door behind him.

He put his weight against the wall’s railing as he hobbled down the hallway. Dull throbs of pain flared along his sides with each step. He hissed, pausing to take a breath, before making his way to the kitchen. Kale tapped the on button of the radio seated at the counter then moved towards the cabinet.

He opened one of the cabinet doors and frowned at the missing pill bottle that was usually in the medicine basket. He shuffled through the cabinet before checking the next one. Kale padded over to the cabinet next to the fridge. He swung the overhead doors open and yelped at glass smacking into his face.

Kale’s yelp turned into a shout at the tiny gray and pink arms spouting from the bowl wiggling in his hands. Before Kale could properly let his shock settle, another dish tumbled out of the cabinet with its own pair of miniature legs. Kale lunged for one dish after another, stacking them as quickly as he could. He fumbled with the dishes clattering into his arms while the radio murmured to life.

“And that’s why you should keep an eye on the sky folks,” the newscaster said, his voice rumbling through static from the radio. “You don’t want a surprise to catch you off guard.”

“Yeah,” Kale replied, “no kidding.”

He shoved the dishes back into the cabinet, snatching any runaway cups and placing them back onto the shelves. The dishes stomped and clapped in the cabinet until Kale whistled sharply.

“No!” Kale snapped. “Behave yourselves, or I’ll smash all of you!”

The clattering turned into tinkling as the dishes trembled amongst themselves.

“You know I wouldn’t—” Kale started, but sighed. “Just, please, behave. I’ll serve a pot pie in you or something.” The dishes froze and clapped with their pseudo limbs. Kale rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah that’s if you behave.” He paused. “Hey, is the aspirin—” A small bottle was flung from one of the dishes and hit Kale’s chest. “Stay out of the medicine cabinet salad bowl!”

The salad bowl stuck its gray tongue at him as he closed the doors. Kale shook his head, regretting his decision to let Colby practice on the dishware. He uncapped the aspirin bottle, tapping the pills into the cap when a bell echoed throughout the room. Kale tossed back the two pills and went to the door. He peeked through the cracked peephole to find a kaleidoscope fracture of pinks, blues, and frown lines.

Kale cursed under his breath and plastered a smile on his face before opening the door. He could feel the tendons in his neck popping as he strained to look up at the woman towering over him. The top of Kale’s head stopped just five centimeters below her chin while her frame practically shadowed his smaller one. She cradled two large bags under her arms and a thin lipped frown twisted upon her lips.

“Mrs. Farlior,” Kale grinned. “Good morning! Did you do something—”

“Cut the pleasantries. Where were you?” Mrs. Farlior said. “And don’t give me the ‘my car was flooded’ excuse this time.”

Kale fought back a wince at her sharp tone. To be fair, his car did get flooded once thanks to Colby’s allergies acting up. One sneeze was all it took for his magical deck to misinterpret his illness for a spell and flood the car with tapioca pudding when he tried to get in. An honest mistake that could happen to anyone.

Kale noted how amidst the finely pressed floral blouse Mrs. Farlior’s silver hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Not a hair out of place. The dread in Kale’s stomach worsened, realizing that today she meant business.

“Mrs. Farlior, I really did try to come to the meeting last night,” Kale said.

“But?” Mrs. Farlior asked.

“There was…a mishap when Col and I were on our way to get eggs.”

The woman arched a brow at him. “Let me guess. Supernatural phenomena caused the store’s products to attack you?”

Kale sucked in a breath, ogling her when she shrugged.

“It was joke.” She said, rolling her eyes. “If you listened to the news around here, you would see how their stories are just excuses for ratings. And when you’ve been married to a news reporter like that for 20 years, nothing gets by you anymore.”

A cough turned laugh tumbled out of Kale’s throat. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“You got me. I pushed Colby too hard in his lessons yesterday, so we took a quick detour to the candy store as a reward.”

Mrs. Farlior eyed him over the rim of her glasses and shook her head. She shoved the stuffed bags into Kale’s arms. Pain shot up his side like lightning at the sudden movement, causing him to wince as he gripped the bags.

“And,” Mrs. Farlior said, “what kind of candy store causes a limp Mr. Wodtke?”

Kale carefully straightened himself against the door frame. “You know I’m clumsy.”

“Too clumsy apparently.”

Kale felt his skin tighten under her glare and cleared his throat. He quickly slid behind the edge of the door, nudging it closer to hide half his frame.

“Lovely talking to you as always Mrs. Farlior,” he said. “Thank you for the groceries.”

Mrs. Farlior blinked at him before jutting her chin to the bags. “Your bill and mail are in first bag with the Tiemann.”

“Yeah—”

“That I purchased for Colby.”

Kale’s grin faltered. “He doesn’t even like it as much as I do.”

“Well when his father starts acting like an adult maybe he can get some Tiemann too.”

Kale mock pouted at her retreating frame as she walked down the porch. Just as Kale was closing the door, she turned back around.

“Wodtke,” she said. Kale stopped and looked to her. “I can only tell the council that your car broke down so many times before they come up here themselves.”

Kale stared at her hard and closed the door. Since moving to Port Bluecastle on the hill above the town, it was not easy to live and be ignored as Kale originally thought. Members of the neighborhood council jumped on him and Colby both whenever they entered town. That coupled with Colby’s homeschooling rather than attend their public schools was another strike against Kale. It was truly only Mrs. Farlior’s threats for disturbing her tenants that kept the council members away from the hill.

But Kale had other things to worry about than them. One of which was the growing pain in his side if he didn’t set his groceries down.

He hobbled to the kitchen, dropping the bags on the counter. He plucked the stack of mail from the top of the first bag. He set his bill to the side, noting to pay Mrs. Farlior extra for the groceries this month, and thumbed through the remaining envelopes and pamphlets. It wasn’t until Kale got to the last envelope when the throbbing pain from his bruises vanished; replaced by the sickly prickle of nausea as he read the return address stamped onto the envelope.

“I’m going to need stronger aspirin for this.”