There's a man creeping around the house. Not 'creeping' in the literal sense — he's strolling, meandering, or whatever — but in the sense that he's being a creep because this place is none of his business.

Lisa stands in the upstairs window, just off to the side so the glare of the sun against the glass hides her just right, and she watches him to see what he's planning to do.

She'd almost think he's casing the place, but he's too well-dressed for that. Besides, it's empty. He'll see that in just a glance inside, and then he'll move on, right? Except he glances in, and he doesn't move on, not fast enough for Lisa's liking.

What the hell does he think he's doing? She glares down at him, and there's a defensive, protective part of her that wants to give him a piece of her mind. Get up in his space and demand he get out of here. She's so annoyed that her ears are rushing.

No, that's something else. The rushing gets louder and louder as she glares down at him, so loud she feels dizzy with it. Lisa squeezes her eyes shut and for an impossible second she feels like her feet leave the ground—

And then the rushing is gone, cut off like someone snapping shut a book. Lisa opens her eyes. She's outside. She's standing behind the guy, staring at his back, and she only takes a second to recalibrate before she crosses her arms.

"What're you doing?" she snaps.