Refrigerator shortscarystories

I don't know how long it's been growing there
In that puddle of sticky dried liquid
On the refrigerator's bottom shelf
Among the dessicated carrots
And the elderly boxes of takeout.
I live alone, and don't clean out the fridge
Very often.

 

It's a soft, velvet mat of fuzzy green
With irregular edges and tiny
Hairs
Downy and fragile like a kitten's fur.
I put the milk back on the second shelf
And promise myself I will clean the fridge
In the morning.

 

I turn off the lights and get into bed
Warm and heavy with sleep. And in the dark
I hear a quiet, ordinary sound
Unremarkable and commonplace, but
I snap awake, because I'm alone and
It's the sound of the refrigerator
Door opening.

Submitted February 05, 2017 at 09:50AM by bottlerocket23 http://ift.tt/2k8Yomy shortscarystories