Even as an adult, I can’t sleep with my back to an open closet door. The shapes inside take on strange forms, and murmurings of doubt nibble at my brainstem.
Tonight, however, was another matter. Mostly, because my latest girlfriend was spending the night, and not much sleeping was going on.
Well after midnight, we passed out exhausted, and I didn’t give my closet a second thought. In fact, I had drifted off with it yawning open, something I would otherwise never do.
Several hours later, in that surreal time between night and early morning, a cool breeze blew through the house.
I woke up the next morning thinking she had left me for work. It wasn’t until three days, thirty-six texts, and several desperate voice mails later that I found her bright pink shoe on my closet floor.
Also, her left arm.
I guess I can be glad there’s not a closet in my jail cell.
End
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