I lay my head on the pillow, my knees drawn up just slightly so my feet don’t knock over the legs. Ten minutes. Twenty. I flip one way and then the other. And repeat and repeat. When I hear a noise, I wonder if it’s my father. Every sound at night since I was ten has been sent by him. Something else is bugging me. I slide open the closet and pad down the hall in my socks. Fumble for the switch to the outside porch light. Turn it off. Open the front door. Unwrap the flag. Turn the porch light back on.
For someone trying to stay in hiding, you're really fucking stupid.
