A tall row of fir trees, tightly squished next to one another, separates one side of our building’s parking lot from another building’s lot. I’ve been seeing these trees every day for almost three years now, and I’d never noticed this gap in between the trees until today.
There’s something about the gap–just wide enough for a nosy person to fit through–and the space on the other side that makes me want to peek through and see what’s going on.
The title is what I always say/think when I’m slowing approaching a place and wondering if something is going to startle me on the other side. The movie, Cujo, perfected the scary-movie method of the slow, quiet, steady move of the victim… tiptoeing through a supposedly empty house, looking around the stranded car to see where the rabid dog is lurking, opening a closet door to see if the killer lurks inside. Of course, it always ends in a frightful scare, complete with an orchestral hit, and makes us jump in our seat!
Of course, on the other side of this is probably only the same thing that’s on our side… a lot full of cars, baking in this unrelenting sun.