Baby snuck into the kitchen cupboard. It was empty, a light oak, and just big enough for her to fit inside without any cans of corn, or cylinders of breadcrumbs, or even a knock-off pound of linguine. The store had cleared out, except for a few of the employees, lingering, picking up tiny pencils dropped by careless customers who neglected to fill out their notepads with manufacture part, aisle, and row numbers. None of them spoke Swedish like Baby once thought. In fact, most of them were adolescents who went to the same schools as her, drank the same fountain water, and swore the same swears. Only they wore yellow shirts, and Baby hated the color yellow.
Baby cracked open the cabinet door and peeked out just in time to watch the curly-haired teen hobble down the stairs. The lights dimmed, and she heard the door click locked as it echoed through the warehouse bouncing off each mirror and aluminum chair. Baby smiled. She knew Jake could be anywhere. There could be twenty kitchens, twelve bedrooms, fourteen bathrooms, three living rooms she'd have to explore; not to mention the cabinets, desks and pantries-- and the children's area. It could take her days.
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