ECHO

Nobody around here remembers when the woods started answering.

At first it was a joke. Shout between the trunks and something would call back. Then people noticed it answered more than shouting. It answered footsteps. It answered the way you went quiet. So everyone adjusted: they stopped singing out there, they started saying hello to rocks, and somebody put up a sign reading CAUTION: ECHO, with smaller letters underneath — it's polite.

Niko lives with Granny at the edge of those woods. This morning begins like every morning: the kettle, the cups, a conversation shouted up the stairs. Except today Granny says it is too quiet out there — and she has lived here long enough to tell quiet from holding its breath.

Go have a look. Just don't disappear out there. She can't finish the tea alone.