Little, Awful Things

The first of them hits a window with a wet thunk. Valerie jerks upright at the sound.

"What the 'ell was that?"

Richard mumbles, rolls over and pulls a pillow over his head.

Valerie clutches the quilt, listening. A few more smacks—amplified noises like insect kamikaze against a windshield at high speed—echo from the kitchen.

"Richard, wake your lazy arse." Valerie shakes Richard's shoulder.

He moans, sucks a breath into his lungs, and opens his eyes. "What you want to go and wake me for?"

"Somethin...