The triangle started popping up all around the house. It would manifest itself in dark corners and architectural details and patterns in textiles. Knots in the house’s rough hewn beams would stare out at you like eyes. Knots that they didn’t remember being there before.

They found it amusing at first, there was nothing inherently malignant to the shape. Later, Stan would try to eradicate it to no avail. He threw that rug in the entryway out on four different occasions. He burned it once. It somehow found its way back.