The cave dweller opened a small crack in the door. The night had eclipsed the sun and the air felt fresh. After taking a moment for his eyes and ears to adjust, he saw only stillness and heard only the distant chirps of muffled crickets. The coast seemed clear. He surged forward with nimble feet down steps that dared not creak. A couch, two tables, and a laundry basket stood in his way but he quickly dispatched them with ease. The cat’s tail, which blended well into carpet’s patterning, nearly annihilated the run if not for a last-moment reflex save. At last, he entered the holy Kitch where the Frigidare laid bare. Massaging the handle before pulling with all his might, the vault doors swung open and white light, pure as divine grace, flooded his sight and stunned him for a second. When he recovered his senses, he beheld only empty trays and ransacked drawers. A single note remained which read “We’re out of food. Can you go shopping tomorrow? Sis.” The cave dweller sulked back to his room in shame.