A Pair of Pants
I needed to get a pair of pants out of the dryer—I could see the pants wadded up in the back of the dryer, warm and fresh smelling, ready to be worn out in the cold January morning. Every time I would come close to opening the door I could see the light turn on and then I would immediately close the door as fast as I could. The light scared me. How do I know if it ever turns off when I close the dryer door all the way? I stood in front of the dryer and then I paced back in forth. I would sometimes put my hand on the handle, think about pulling the door open, but then releasing my grip and then pacing some more. I tried to convince myself if I would crouch down behind the door when I opened it, the light would not find me. Then I would realize that my arms weren’t long enough to reach around and grab the pants. My pants were getting colder and so were my legs and I stood there in my underwear in desperate need to leave for work. The need for my pants and the obsession to avoid the light caused me to wear a skirt that day.
No comments:
Post a Comment