He flicked a switch. Tinkling, then the buzz of an overhead light. The tiny room lit up. Shelves full of books and board games, worn furniture, a pile of nubby blankets, a teapot on a circular table. In the corner a nice-sized television, rabbit ears already tugged out. The walls were covered with photos in frames, hanging crookedly. A big family. I had a feeling the people living there loved each other, and that awareness made me feel heavy inside. I searched through them, but I couldn’t find Carl in a single one. Girl went straight for a round cushion on the floor. Turned three times then lay down, settling her head on her paws.

“It’ll be good to stay here for a while,” I said. I sat on the edge of the couch and slipped my fingers into the taped mess on one foot. I managed to pry it off with a watery slurp. “I think we walked forever.”

Carl didn’t hear me. He was arguing again. “I can see that. I’m not an imbecile. Stop it. Stop calling me that. Listen to her. Listen to what she says. I told you. All these are wrong. Wrong. Wrong! All of them!” He held up a framed photo of a girl, a fat grub pinched between her fingers, face grimacing. “I don’t know these people. I don’t know who these people are. They’re trying to fool me up. Trap me. Switched everything around, urh. Playing jokes. Not funny, not funny.”

“Carl?” I wrenched the gray mound off my other foot. “You all right?”

He put the photo down on the table, turned toward me. Narrowed his eyes. “You look different. I don’t recognize you either. I don’t.”

“It’s just me.”

“It’s just me.”

When he repeated my words this time, there was an edge to his tone.

“I washed my face, Carl. In the lake.”

“Your color’s gone.”

“Yeah. Lots of dirt. My spots returned.” When I smiled, he didn’t smile back. I swallowed. Then I said, “I like it here, Carl. You got a great place.” Those stupid words came out of my mouth even though I knew the cottage belonged to someone else. We had just broken into it.

He lowered his head suddenly. He reminded me of Chicken when Gloria hollered at him. Then Carl’s arms jumped up in the air as if his wrists were attached to strings. He yelled out, “Did you hear that?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“On the roof. Crawling around.”

“Nothing, Carl. It’s nice and quiet.”

“They’re out there. Whispering. Down on all fours. How many? How many?”

He was breathing hard and the sight of his arms flapping made my heart clang in my chest. I’d never seen him do that before.

“Maybe raccoons?” I offered. “Looking for garbage?”