whoknows uow anything 040911 ... uow i certainly don't 040911 ... warmthofrelease City folk, you could say. A man and a male-born they/them. Little house at the end of a cul_de_sac with a garish porch light wind chimes and no furniture. Quiet. Perceptibly quiet, anyway. As_far_as_you_know. Foot of snow. No they didn't build snow angels. No they didn't go in the backyard and roll or sled downhill. There was no dog. There were no children. There was no value in snow. The two shoveled the driveway and had to get_back_to_work. Get_back_to_it. Get_on_with_it. Looking out the dining room window into the backyard. Snow still on the ground. He sees some deer prints in the snow. He sees some paw prints. He sees some shoe prints. They're not his. They're not his roommate's. They did not go down the hill. There was no value in snow. They led from the very top of the yard, straight along the fence line, straight to the back door of the house. Two footprints turned from pointing left-to-right, adjacent to the house, to pointing inward. Right into in front of the sliding glass door. Pointing right into the dining room where he was standing looking at the footprints. They continued to the right, along the top of the fenceline and onto the neighboring property. He had no_way_of_knowing who was there. He could only assume that whoever it was did not see anything of value inside. Or at least not anything that could be of value to them. Them who might be with or without dogs, who might be with or without children. The prints could've been made at 2 in the afternoon or 2 in the morning. We_have_no_way_of_knowing. 260307 what's it to you? who go blather from