SHADES OF REALITY
SANTA FE
"It's too early to get up," mumbled Jillian, as she rolled over and reached for the snooze bar on the clock radio. Before her fingers reached the bar, she stopped. There was no mistaking the scent of his cologne; he had been in her room again last night. She sat up in bed; her eyes focused quickly to the sunlight filtering through the blinds. With a minimum of movement, she scanned the entire room. He never moved anything and she found comfort believing he wouldn't hurt her. At least, he hadn't so far.
Jillian never knew when these mysterious nocturnal visits would take place. If it weren't for the scent of his cologne, which lingered long after his departure and the dry mud on the kitchen floor, she never would have known of his presence.
Reluctant to admit it, she liked the scent of his cologne and often wondered if this mystery man matched the bold aromatic blend of spices, he wore.
"Murray, is he still here?" Jillian asked the large tiger striped cat sitting at the foot of her bed. Several years ago, Jillian found a scraggly little kitten wandering around a dumpster. She took him home, named him Murray and since then, they were best friends. She swore, he understood every word she said.
Murray stared at Jillian, as though reminding her, it was time to get up. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked at the closet door. It was open just enough for her to see the ominous darkness and wonder if there was more in there, than just her belongings.
"This is ridiculous. I can't remember if I left it open or else maybe it was you," she said
once again looking at Murray, now ready to jump off the edge of the bed. He knew it was time for breakfast. While staring into the uncertainty of the walk-in closet, Jillian reached for her pink terry robe at the foot of the bed next to Murray and slipped her feet into her pink fuzzy slippers.
She stood in front of the partially opened closet door, hesitating for a moment. Her hands trembled as she opened the door and reached inside the foreboding closet in search of the light switch. She often wondered what would happened if someone touched her hand, would she lose all control? Her fingers found the switch and in an instant, the uncertain darkness was transformed to the comforting reality of an ordinary closet void of anything other than her clothes, shoes and other miscellaneous items.
"Murray, why do I do this to myself? I think I'm getting paranoid," she said as she shut off the light in the closet.
As she turned away, she could have sworn, she detected a slight trace of the aroma from a cigar. She sniffed; the scent of the cigar was gone.
Once again the dried mud was on the kitchen floor.
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