Sleeping
I didn’t need to turn the light on. Cheryl, my wife, and I had lived here for over 15 years. I knew every inch, every piece of furniture. I knew which stairs squeaked, and where to place my feet to make sure they didn’t. I knew that the bedroom door never closed properly. Cheryl had been after me to fix that for years, but I never got around to it. I guess it didn’t matter now. The bedroom was dark too, but the blinds were thin, allowing some of the full moon’s light to cast soft...