Every night at exactly nine o’clock, we heard her sweeping the floor. She never missed a day. Not once.
My family and I were not the only ones who noticed. The whole neighbourhood had spent years wondering why she swept her house every single night.
One evening, I finally gathered the courage to ask her. She looked at me with an eerie smile.
“When they leave,” she said quietly, “they leave behind so much dirt. If I don’t get it out of the house before dawn...”
She paused. “Hmmm.”
“That would be bad.”
“Who?” I asked.
She smiled again. Slowly, she lifted one finger and pointed outside. There was nothing there.
I walked away quietly, careful not to step where she was pointing.