I can't sleep at night anymore, ever since I stopped locking the door. The fear is overwhelming. Someone might walk in at any time, and I could do nothing about it. I lie awake staring at the door, waiting for it to fly open, though I am no more sure that it will happen than I am when it will happen, or even why.
I know, of course, that I could stand up and lock it. I'm not a fool. Sometimes at night I stand up and approach the door, vowing to myself that I'll lock the door, but I lose my nerve. My hand is trembling so violently by the time I reach the doorknob that I could scarcely operate the lock even if I still wanted to. I stand there, hand trembling, pulse rapid, gasping for breath, and black out. When my mind returns I find myself back in bed, the door still firmly unlocked, everything unchanged except for my growing fear.
But I can't lock it. The fear, the uncertainty, are nothing compared with the absolute terror that accompanies the certainty that if I lock it, no one will come.
20060731
under lock and key
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3 comments:
What if someone came, but they made you feel nothing at all? Surely anticipation and fear are better than utter sinking banality?
The door opens. My heart races. Before the arrival has time to open the door I have a thousand speculations as to who it is, why they have come.
Turns out it's the landlord saying he's going to be out of town for a few weeks, so I can just slip the rent under his door, he'll pick it up when he gets back, thanks, he'll see me in a few weeks.
Leaving doors open never got so anticlimactic.
Think harder. Maybe the landlord had a message for you that you completely overlooked. Other than instructions about rent. Did he look shifty? Was there a glint in his eye? Did he slip a piece of paper into your pocket when you weren't looking? Did he speak in code at any point during your conversation?
Anticlimactic could change your life.
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