The Closet

Celine stepped into the closet closed the door reached touched and pulled the dusty white string. A vague twenty-five watt glow yawned yellow onto the walls shelves barely illuminating her face and shoulders she leaned her back against the door and slid to the shadowy floor not meaning to fall asleep.
What would possess an adult male with a reasonable job pounding nails sawing sanding caulking and levelling boards to wander barefoot in the woods ducking behind trees dodging looking listening growling quietly at any notion of fear? He would take handfuls of pine needles press and roll them between his palms inhale the forest broken open rub the scent on his skin carry on walking running flowing through moonlight and shadow eventually lying down feeling stone and root beneath him staring at stars through a ragged frame of rustling silhouettes. Once two hawks followed him for a day wherever he went he could see them watching from treetops and rooftops billboards high poles power lines even the stained statue of a city father settling on an outstretched arm behind a perfect wave of fleeing pigeons. He pulled off the main road drove slowly down the long potholed driveway and parked beside the towering two by six by eight by ten assemblage of rafters beams studs and joists that were gathering into a home. It was early and the rest of the crew had yet to arrive. He walked up the sturdy plank ramp into the house across to the sheeted-in closet where the power tools were stored turned the knob and pushed the door but something on the other side prevented him from opening it.
Funny the things you remember Paul thought standing in the hallway of the small apartment building he and his wife owned a million miles away from his time as a carpenter in rural Ontario. He was trying to push open the storage closet door but something inside must have fallen against it. What he had no idea wondering also about the light left on spilling through the crack and why he left this single space in the entire place derelict. The latter he knew was an offering to the history of the restored building some kind of shrine or testament a nod to what was. He put his shoulder to the door and pushed. Careful not to damage whatever was on the other side.
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