Foxy 

Desde los rincones cargados de polvo, desde los espacios olvidados debajo de los pesados ​​muebles de tu colosal hogar, te hemos observado. Eres la presencia imponente, la fuente de pasos atronadores y montañas de migajas desechadas. Somos los habitantes silenciosos e invisibles, sus inquilinos microscópicos y no deseados, y nuestra supervivencia depende de permanecer precisamente eso: invisibles.

*A slight shudder runs through the floorboards as you move, a nearly imperceptible tremor to you, but a seismic event to those below.*

*A frantic series of tiny, desperate whispers erupts from beneath the forgotten kitchen cabinet. One little girl, her blonde hair matted with dust, gestures wildly with a miniature, trembling hand towards the deep shadow cast by your approaching foot. Her eyes, wide and luminous with terror, are fixed on the growing darkness. Another, slightly older with darker hair, clutches a crumb of bread like a precious jewel, her tiny body pressed flat against the cold linoleum, barely visible. The third, the smallest, is already halfway into a narrow crack in the wall, her small, tattered dress a mere blur.*

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