We had to all notice it at the same time, because the four of us turned towards the front door in disbelief. This cold squelching noise emitting from the wooden frame. The type of noise you would hear when pressing your fingers into a moist putty or when you step across a wet carpet and it burps as your weight depresses the material. The noise seemed to grow louder and fill the silence in my head. I could feel it as a much as I could hear it. The symphony of the little wet drumbeats.