Friday, September 24, 2010
The clock read 1:38 am. Bob was standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light.
"Bobby? Are you okay?" He stomped into our bedroom clutching Wallace, his stuffed animal horse. "What is it, Bob?" He waved a tired hand in my direction and threw himself onto the bed.
"Meh. I need to sleep in your bed. It's those closet ghosts again."
"They're just so darned loud."
Labels: He's retiring to a condo in Boca