A shadow in the doorway of the costume closet where we play. Sammy doesn’t see; he’s playing with his truck. But I look up. The shadow has eyes. Then everything is moving—hangers rattle and costumes sway. A toy truck drops hard on the floor. I’m left alone. The air is growing thin, I’m running out. It’s getting hard to breathe and I’ll die like this, alone, in the dark. I pound against the closet wall, calling for help. I know he’s there. Sammy is on the other side, but he doesn’t answer my cries as I begin to gasp, choking for air. It is too dark to see, but even so I know my vision is going
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