This is a weird thing to type out. But the other night, I couldn’t fall asleep and identified a fog in my space by means of the artwork hanging over my bed.
It’s a masterpiece of #2 pencil and one of my most cherished posessions, drawn for me by a man who once loved me dearly. In that moment, a voice demanded that I move it from above me now. Frightened, I jumped onto the bed, felt up the wall to where the wire met the hook, and gently lifted the heavy frame. I slid to the floor and laid it to the side. Back in bed, I quickly fell to sleep. Continue reading