“Alright, buddy. It’s bedtime.” Jim fitted his son under the covers and arranged his stuffed animals in whatever fashion he preferred them. Jim leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
“I love you. Sweet dreams. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. His son repeated his words back to him. Jim kissed him again.
He stood up, turned, and started out of the room.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Can you get the monster?” Jim sighed. Every night: get the monster.. Jim walked over to the open closet and moved his arm in and out of the hanging tee shirts and jackets acting as if he was shooing away some invisible entity. Satisfied, Jim wished his son good night and turned off the lights.
His son laid quietly for a moment, hoping for once that the monster was in fact gone. But not this night.
“I’m still here,” a voice creaked from the closet.
