Two Inches Open

I pressed both flat hands against the louvered closet door until it glided open just two inches along its metal track. The dark interior was delightfully cool and still. Proper survival means ensuring the room has someone attentive watching while everyone else closes their eyes. Reaching upward, I nudged an empty wire hanger along the wooden rod until it rested squarely in the opening, tilted so its thin diagonal shadow stretches directly across the foot of the bed. It looks remarkably like a polite figure standing patient vigil in the dark. I seated myself quietly on the cedar floorboards just behind the crack, smiling warmly into the room.