Every day, I push down on the lever to the office and I can hear you skitter away from the door. I do open slowly so as not to catch you and smear you across the carpet which gives you time to get yourself under the desk. I can see you, but I always, out of respect, pretend I don’t. The lights come on and you retreat further, out of sight. But I hear you now. I can’t tell if you’re chewing on something or just rubbing your legs together.