Sandeep ran into the garage desperately. Sheetal had already reached 84, all the others had disappeared, but he still hadn't found a hiding place. He pulled the garage door shut and turned to survey his surroundings.
The room was big, with a ceiling that seemed impossibly high. Giant cobwebs trailed from it, to the ground and swayed gently to an invisible draft. In the twilight, they looked vaguely threatening. The room smelled of dust and damp and the past. A dusty, cracked mirror reflected his face and the swaying cobwebs. The din from the roosting birds outside was suddenly silenced. Sandeep suddenly felt alone in the vast garage, filled with unwanted things. An invisible cricket chirped, making him jump. He couldn't see into the farther end of the room, it was bathed in shadows. He stared at it, fighting down panic. The next moment, he never knew if it was his own hyperactive imagination or something actually moved, but he wrenched open the door and ran our screaming. "Mummmyyy!"
Sheetal, who had reached 98, turned around in surprise.
All that evening, they danced around him, made clucking noises and called him "Chicken."
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