Love in the Spotlight

Chapter 8: Moving Forward

I woke the next morning to a splintering headache. Now it's very clear to me why I don't drink.

I kept my face buried into the plush pillow. Blocking out the blinding light of the sun. Something felt off. I stretched out my arm. Normally, with my bed at home, I'm able to stretch out and feel the edge of the bed. But for some reason, my bed seemed to keep going. Like there was no edge.

I lifted my head gently. Opening my eyes and squinting, I saw that I was not laying in my bed at home, but instead I was laying in a bed that made me seem like I was five, with how small it made me feel.

I was wrapped in a cloud like blanket. Laying upon silk like sheets. Where am I?

I was praying that I didn't end up going home with some random guy.

Looking around, I noticed a post-it note on the bed side table. It read:

I'm sure you'll need these. Stay in bed till I get back.

~Rob

Laying next to the note were two pills and a glass, filled to the rim with a green substance. I took the two pills and washed them down with the drink. I took one big gulp and soon regretted it. Whatever it was did not taste good. I nearly spit it out.

I managed to drink half of it before I felt like my body was going to reject it.

I slid from bed. Wrapping the silky sheets around my body, I walked over to a door. My balance was still a bit off, but not as bad as last night.

Opening the double doors, I was greeted by a walk in closet. Flipping on the switch, each individual closet, shelf, and rack lit up. I walked further. Admiring the various suits and linen fabrics. Each article of clothing was different. Each suit held its own mark. Making it somewhat different from the others.

Leather shoes, along with beach scandals and regular workout sneakers, sat perfectly aligned on the floor. A huge selection of ties and gold cufflinks were tucked away in drawers. Hats and sunglasses were hung on metal hooks, while gym bags and brief cases were shoved in cubbies.

I was astonished at just how much this closet could hold and the more I walked, the more it went on forever. A cushioned bench was in the middle of the floor. Covered in embroidered towels and a suit case filled with bathroom products.

The back wall of the closet was home to the not so extravagant clothes. Sweat shirts and hoodies were folded messily and tucked away. Denim jeans, some with rips others splattered with paint, were also tossed away in random places.

Ball caps and boots were placed in no specific order. As I turned to walk back, a box caught my eye. It was tucked and hidden behind a coat rack of jackets. I lowered to my knees.

The box was old and weathered. Nearly ripping. I pulled it out of its crevice.

Once it was out in the open, I saw my name written across the front in faded sharpie. Flipping open the tabs, I searched through the contents.

Hidden inside was a mixture of things. Old photographs taken from a polaroid camera. Pressed roses sealed in baggies. Old hair ties and lip stick. This was all of my stuff. The stuff I had left at his house. It all came back to me.

We never truly properly broke up. Whenever he left that night, I never realized that I didn't get a chance to get my stuff back. Nor did he. We just simply let it be. We continued on with our lives. Forever hiding the other person in our closet. Literally.

I reached in and brought out a hoodie. It was originally his before he gave it to me. I slipped it on and stood to my feet. Exiting the closet, I shut off the light and closed the door behind me.