Cycles

I was in that state, drifting between total unconsciousness and ever so slight cognizance when I heard it. A muffled, yet loud, thump. My eyes struggled to open. I listened more carefully. No sounds whatsoever met my listening ears. For some reason, this led me to believe that I was being robbed.

As quietly, as carefully as possible, I threw back the reassuring weight of my down comforter. First one tiptoe then the other I placed on the chilly floor. I stood perfectly still for a moment, allowing my eyes to adjust to the black of the room. I peeked into the hallway. My eyes did not meet another’s. The front door did not appear to be ajar. I pondered. There wasn’t another entrance to my studio apartment. I tiptoed around my bed to my closet. Maybe the burglar entered through the window in the closet.

I placed my ear to the door of the closet. I heard noises. Not a barrage of loudness, but quiet, surreptitious sounds. I flung open the closet door.

The noises were indeed coming from my closet. All of my clothes, ever so gracefully, were sliding from their proper place on the closet rod. The rod had broken freeeeeeeeeeeeeeee from its position on the wall and hangers upon hangers danced across the floor. I had only enough energy to push the bodiless dresses, skirts, and pants back into the closet with a poke of my toe before returning to bed. A sense of deja vu shrouded me.

This morning I remembered. Not quite a year ago, the same thing, more or less. In Korea. First the light bulb, then the closet. Maybe I should read my archives to see what is going to happen to me next.

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