This is Home

Two icy blue beads are trained on her every move. If she steps one way and then quickly to the other, the little beads follow. Jess does it now, just to confirm. It’s a little bit like one of those creepy paintings in a horror film. The eyes follow her up to four metres away; she’s measured it several times. She’s always doing little experiments on the baby, recording her findings in the leather bound journal that she keeps in her underwear drawer. She’s never told Brad about the experiments; she hasn’t even told her sister. Not that it’s ever anything dangerous, not at all. Usually the outcomes aren’t even that interesting, but she notes them all down anyway. Sometimes at night she lies awake thinking about the experiments and wonders whether she’s going crazy.