Underneath, in her neatest script, she had written: For the best host a fox could ask for. Come visit my den sometime. You can rearrange the chairs.
She started small. She rearranged the books on his shelf by color, not by subject. She swapped the salt and sugar canisters. She took his favorite chair and angled it precisely one inch to the left—just enough to feel wrong, but not enough to name. Vixen - Naomi Swann - A Good Houseguest
He padded inside, shook himself dry, and sat heavily in his chair. His brow furrowed. He stood. He looked at the chair. He looked at her. Underneath, in her neatest script, she had written: