In the Closet


I was cleaning out my closet, trying to hold each piece and feel the joy it brought me. Except nothing was bringing me joy. Clothes were clothes, and while I much preferred wearing them to not, I didn't care much about them on their own. I tried to feel joy for two pairs of pants, a dress, and some shirts, just so I'd have some semblance of a wardrobe left.

I hung my chosen garments (or perhaps they had chosen me?) and pushed them off to one side so I could get a better look at the shelves. I kept my linens in the closet and didn't feel the need to discover if my extra towels brought me joy, but what was on the top shelf? I could see a shadow near the edge, but when I reached up, I must have pushed it back slightly.

I couldn't think of what it would be. I had just moved from a two-bedroom, two-bathroom townhouse to a studio apartment after a messy breakup. I had gotten rid of books, movies, CDs, and kitchen gadgets. The move was still fresh enough in my mind that I could picture myself packing and unpacking boxes, but I had no clue of what was on that top shelf.

I went to get the stepstool; when I came back to the closet, the door was closed. I was certain I had left it open since I was just walking away for a minute, but I tried not to think much of it. I opened the door and put the stepstool in front of the shelves.

It took every ounce of effort to lift my foot onto the lowest step. I told myself I was just being silly. I was making something out of nothing. I was trying to convince myself I was crazy.

Lifting my foot to the next step was even more difficult. It felt like a fifty-pound weight was attached to my leg. Thankfully that lifted me up enough so that I could see the small wooden box on the shelf. It vaguely resembled an old recipe box my mother had when I was a child, but I hadn't seen it in decades, and I definitely hadn't moved it to my new place.

When I reached for the box, I expected it to be as heavy as my feet had been, but it was startlingly light for a solid wood box. Likewise, stepping down was no problem. It was as if something had wanted to keep me from finding the box, but now that I had, all bets were off.


435 words

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