It started small. An indentation in the earth. When the grass was tall, you barely noticed it as you walked over it. Something must have given way underneath the valley in the yard. It seemed to get a little deeper each day.

‘The Hole has taken a life of its own,’ Chet said. ‘It makes an excellent foxhole,’ Chet continued. ‘I wonder what is causing the subsidence,’ Chet mused. ‘The yards of our neighbors do not seem to be affected,’ Chet commented. ‘It is as if someone was digging upwards,’ Chet winked. ‘I am going to sell tickets to see the ever-deepening hole,’ Chet laughed. ‘Neva J told me that all of our homes are built over former underground coal mines; perhaps we will soon see coal,’ Chet noted.

‘Hello…Hello…is anyone out there?’ the Voice asked. ‘My name is Tom, and I have been lost next door for a while,’ the Voice said. ‘I was playing pool with Herb, and when it was time to leave, I lost my twine and could not find my way out of his humongous basement,’ the Voice said. ‘I could hear Herb and someone he called Fats laughing and the pool balls clacking, but I could not find them; the basement went on and on with mostly liminal space,’ the Voice said. ‘I did encounter some Alien Hunters who were as lost as I was; they had not found any Aliens nor the door out of the basement,’ the Voice said. ‘Matilda called my name many times, but she was so far away,’ the Voice said. ‘All of the houses on Seventh Street are three-storied or more, but you only see the tops of them at street level; the rest is underground,’ Tom lamented. ‘An Old Man told me that they had been built during World War II as Atomic Bomb Bunkers,’ Tom continued.

Yes, I was one of the original builders of the Seventh Street Houses, the Old Man said. ‘The idea for them was sound, but something happened,’ the Old Man reflected. ‘They kept growing in dimension with no visible ending to the expansion,’ the Old Man noted. ‘Many folks have entered the front door of the little row houses and never came out,’ the Old Man mused. ‘As near as I can tell, the halls and rooms go on forever,’ the Old Man explained. ‘I entered one of the front porch doors in World War II and never left,’ the Old Man winked. ‘There is no time in the expanse, no clocks, no watches, only endless liminal space,’ the Old Man whispered.