Check on that noise

You leave the phone on the couch and step out the front door.

The afternoon air is warmer than it was earlier. The street is still empty. No cars. No pedestrians. Just the usual quiet of a place that doesn’t get much traffic.

You walk around to the side of the house where the sound came from.

The empty cardboard box is on its side near the edge of the driveway, one flap bent under its own weight. The metal gardening stake that had been leaning against the fence is lying a couple of metres away, like it was knocked clear. Nothing else looks disturbed. No footprints you can make out on the dry ground. No sign of an animal.

You crouch and set the stake back upright against the fence, then right the box. Whatever hit them had force behind it, but there’s nothing here now.

You straighten up and glance toward Ellie’s place without meaning to.

Her back gate is still closed. The side of her house is quiet. Curtains still open, but no movement at the kitchen window from this angle. You tell yourself you’re only checking because the sound could have come from anywhere.

A soft click comes from somewhere behind you — the sound of a gate latch.

You turn.

Further down the street, two houses away, a side gate is swinging shut. Whoever used it is already out of sight, either inside or around the back. You wait a few seconds, listening. Nothing else follows.

The street settles back into silence.

You’re left standing beside your own driveway with a straightened stake, a righted box, and the lingering feeling that something moved through here and left almost no trace.