Closet

Emil stared at the hand coming out of the closet - gnarled, nob knuckled, the claws curved like talons, but jagged and worn. It was fumbling for the light switch. Emil sat, frozen, summoning his courage to speak in a trembling voice, “You’re finally back. How was Florida?” “Too bright,” came a rasping whisper in reply as the hand flicked the bedroom overhead light off. “Gimme a second and I’ll get your souvenir. Got lots of pictures.”