Solitude on Magnolia Terrace

Darkness rested in the air all around the inside.  The shudder-like doors let in a few small streams of light.  I wondered if they would give me away.  Could he see me through the holes that reached out into the world?  Would he know to find me there?  I hoped not.  The space inside was small, but I soon decided that, if necessary, I could manage there for quite some time.  I fit perfectly between the rounded shelves that covered the walls.  The mass of clothing adorning those white-washed shelves was warm against my back, and I gasped for a moment, feeling slightly claustrophobic.  I wanted to empty one of the top shelves, climb up and pull the clothes over and around me; then I would really be hidden.  But I had grown too big for such things, so I stood there in silence, trying to admire the way the slits of light fell on my legs and arms.  I had chosen this place carefully.  It was, by far, the best fit for me.  Every other option I found to be too small, too dangerous, or too obvious.  From this vantage-point not only was I closed in, but no one could sneak up on me.  My back to the wall and my face to the door, I felt fairly well prepared for any intrusion to my personal haven.  Alert and aware, I waited, but he never came.  I heard footsteps.  I heard voices.  Didn’t they know I was ready for them?  No one could scare me this time.  But they never came.  Would they leave me there alone forever?  Did they think I really enjoyed my solitude as much as I pretended to?  But still they never came.  I had picked the perfect spot.  Sometimes I hated hide and seek.

(written 3.21.03)