I usually wake up in the middle of the night because I have to pee. I get out of bed and open the door slowly so it doesn’t make that grawwwwwww creaking sound, even though Shana is a deep sleeper who doesn’t wake up when the seagulls get together on our roof and lose their minds, so what’s a door to her, but still. That’s how I do it. And sometimes my brain is barely turned on so I’m not thinking anything except pee pee pee pee pee pee pee so I go across the hall and pee. Other times my brain is at least a little turned on and I think, when I open the door, a man will be there. He will be a scary man who is green and white and pixelated like people on night vision cameras and he will be there to kill me. And every time I open the door, no one is there. I am relieved because if someone was there it would be the most terrifying thing that ever happened to me and it would also be sad because he would murder me and I don’t want to die. But I imagine that if I opened the door and saw him, there would be a flash of something else. Not relief. Just, I knew it. I fucking knew it. Not that I want it to happen. I don’t. Honestly.