Startle them slowly. Pinch the ripe apple of each exposed cheek. Drape lace down bare windows here lips have already pressed ghosts into chilled corners of glass. No one will predict you billowing in overnight, an eccentric aunt mantling a flurry of safety pins and scarves through the air. You issued warning--the frozen coins of ponds and lakes chattering in the hush of your woolen pockets. If that isn't enough, wait for footprints to crease the front lawn. Splinter the knuckles of oaks into the earth's palm. Then, when no one is looking, blindfold the world.