There is a big Saint Patrick's Day party happening at my house. It's being
put on by one of my room-mates, and I don't know anyone here. Most of the
guests are too far removed from my social scene for me to relate with, so
I find myself hiding out in the empty rooms of the house, watching the
crowds of bleached women and thick-necked men from a safe distance.
Soon even these rooms begin to fill up, so I retreat to the bathroom. I
take an unnecessarily long bowel-movement and sit on the toilet for
another ten minutes, reading a stuffy Canadian magazine until my legs fall
When I finally get up and decide to face the crowds again, I pause in
front of the light switch. On a childish whim, I flick off the lights,
just to see how dark it gets. There are no windows, and the crack under
the door is blocked by the thick carpet outside.
It gets very, very dark.
Unprepared for this
uncomfortably total blackness, I quickly reach for the light switch, but I
touch only smooth drywall. My hand can't seem to find the switch in the
dark. I put both hands against the wall and feel around, but find nothing.
The light switch is gone.
In a sudden jolt of panic I reach for the doorknob to run out of here and
embarrass myself in front of all the party guests...but I can't find the
doorknob. My hands run all around the door, feeling the rough woodgrain,
but where the knob should be, there is just more wood.