The clock on the porch wall flickered to . It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving—that frantic, transitional day where the world smells of brined turkey and cardboard delivery boxes.
High in the corner of the eaves, the glass eye of the camera woke up. A small blue ring pulsed. It had detected motion: the local mail carrier, shoulders hunched against a biting November wind, jogging up the driveway. 202211231080EAFULL.mp4
The mailman drops a heavy package—likely the "emergency" roasting pan ordered two days late—with a hollow thud that vibrates through the microphone. The clock on the porch wall flickered to
A neighborhood tabby cat stalks across the porch railing three seconds later, pausing to sniff the box with suspicion before leaping into the hydrangeas. 202211231080EAFULL.mp4