Barely Exaggerated

barely exaggerated

 by Roya Sorooshian

Outside it starts raining. and i think that there's something not right. it's august, almost september, raindrops have no business here. it's a hot night though, despite the rain. i'm staring futilely through the slits of the blinds on my window, imagining a scarred face, with sweat from this muggy night under his eyes, staring back. i turn away. a car chugs along outside. i think maybe i should close the window, maybe it's not safe. but it's so hot. i checked behind the shower curtain 53 times today. i turned off the computer, i locked the door. did i lock the car? oh shit... i won't get up. i won't look. what if someone is looking into my bedroom now? what if they know i didn't lock the car and i won't be able to drive to school tomorrow? i get up and go outside. it's much cooler. there are spider webs on my porch. no moon. it stopped raining. now my feet are wet. the car was locked. i hurry back inside, panicky until i close the door and lock it. back to my room, stop at the bathroom. 54. i lay down on my bed, with the lights still on. people outside can see in, but i can't forget tom sawyer. how a light left on saved a lady's life. i usually fall asleep with the light on. the book shelf at the end of my bed has two trophies on the top shelf. i have a sudden vision of being stabbed by the gold figure on top if we have an earthquake. i stand up on my mattress and take the trophies down. lay down again. pull up the blanket, even though it's hot, and there's no air coming through the window. i always need something covering me. i can't sleep. did i lock the car? oh, right. then what did i forget? i go to get a glass of water. 55. lay back down. the light is awfully bright. i close my eyes but my toes are twitching. my toes... i reach down and pull off my socks. no wonder. i close my eyes, and i'm asleep.