by Shawn Allen
On the floor by the foot of the bed he keeps the drawer that used to hold his socks and underwear, upside-down, with a box of once read paperbacks on top, pushed against the mattress. The top of the box was indented, as if something had sat there and pushed it in, and the whole mess looked quite out-of-place.
He kept them there so his little, aging dog could use them as steps to get up onto the bed whenever she wanted to.
Even though she’d been gone almost a year, he couldn’t bring himself to move them back where they belonged, in case her ghost came to visit, and still needed them to get into the bed.