The Room

He studied me intently, and gestured toward it again. "Because that belongs to me."

I pulled into the driveway just at dusk. It was golden hour, and the house caught rays of light that had broken through the trees. I had never been to this house, but it felt familiar at the same time. Green with dark shutters, and a chainlink fence that connected to a rock wall on one side. There were a lot of people carrying plates of food. Ribs. Tearing at them with their teeth, laughing, those flimsy plates threatening to give way in the way paper plates do when they become soggy and heavy. My stomach lurched a bit.

I scanned the yard to see if I recognized anyone, but no one looked familiar. The grass was riddled with dandelions that tickled my ankles as I walked around the yard. Suddenly, the screen door flung open and slapped the side of the house. A woman ran out covering her mouth and sobbing. The door rebounded and clicked shut. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but she ran directly for the gate and left. No one seemed to notice. A couple of guys were playing horseshoes. I posted up toward the edge of the yard near the fence to watch. A shriek cut through the air. This time everyone turned toward the house as a couple of young girls ran out.

I walked toward the front porch, and one of the men playing horsehoes called out, “Don’t go in there. There is something in there you really don’t want to see.”

I nodded, and backed up to circle the yard looking for someone familiar again. I realized that I was getting closer and closer to the front porch. It felt like something was drawing me into that house. I scanned the yard and it didn’t seem that anyone was paying me any mind. I gingerly jogged up the steps, and quietly opened the screen door. I was careful to close it softly behind me. Finally I turned to look around.

It was ordinary as far as rooms go. It was what most people would refer to as “the living room”. The furniture was worn, and soft. There was a coffee table with a remote and some coasters. A flatscreen television hung on the way. There weren’t any lights on, but there was enough light being cast by the setting sun to give the room a dim orange glow. That’s when I spotted it. A body hanging from a noose. I stepped closer and a voice spoke from the corner, “Don’t get too close.” He gestured toward the body.

I looked again, and noticed that this dead person was swollen. Skin mottled and pulled tight, looking as if it might burst open. It was doing the thing dead bodies do when they’re left hanging up for a long period of time. I looked back toward the corner the man in the corner. He looked impassive.

I stared at him quizzically. “Why aren’t you running out like everyone else?”

He stared at me intently. “Because that,” he gestured toward the body, “belongs to me.”

We locked eyes, neither of us acknowledging the decaying interloper. Finally, he shifted in his chair, as if he were squaring himself up to land a punch. He rested his chin on his hand and said, “Why aren’t you running out like the rest?”

I sit on the couch, and settle back getting comfortable. He raises a cup of coffee and takes a drink. “Where did you get coffee?” I ask.

He takes another drink. “You don’t need coffee. You’ll have trouble sleeping.”

I sigh. We both look up at the corpse again.

“Why not take him down?”

He sits his coffee down on a side table and clicks his tongue. “He keeps me company.” Then, he cocks his head and regards me again. “You seem comfortable here.”

“Yeah.” I agree. “Feels less lonely here.”

We both look up at him again.

“He’s magnificent, isn’t he.” He asks.

I nod. Outside, I could hear laughter. Someone had started a game of horseshoes. A truck door slammed.

The man picked up his coffee. I settled deeper into the couch.

The corpse swayed slightly in the evening light.

Neither of us looked away.