When you turn the lights out, that pile of clothes on your chair looks like a person. Tonight you’re going to start talking to it.
“I’m going to call you Jesse because I’ve always wanted a friend named Jesse. Jesse, I once saw a little boy drowning in a cold river and I did nothing. I just kept walking because I didn’t want to risk my own life to save him. The next day I saw that the boy was in a car with his parents and they’d driven off the road and into the river. The parents managed to swim to shore, but the boy got caught in the current and was dragged away from them. His parents felt like they killed their own son with their reckless driving. I know because I used to sneak up to their house at dinnertime and listen to them through the open window while they fought and cried over their meal. I did that every night for a couple of months, then I decided that what’s done is done and there’s no more point in worrying over what I didn’t do. I still think about that kid a couple of times a day, and I don’t sleep, but I say that he wasn’t my soul to save. Not my responsibility. You don’t think I’m a horrible person do you Jesse? Say nothing if you don’t.”
The pile of clothes then takes corporeal form and manages to wheeze out the words: “Coward. I have strained to become a man for just an instant in order to say that to you. Coward.”
Then the pile of clothes goes back to being a pile of clothes. Tomorrow, you’re doing laundry.
Happy That Pile Of Clothes Looks Like A Person When The Lights Are Out Day!
