Out Of The Closet (Literally)

It was late at night, when Norin finally found sleep. Dad and he had talked and talked about Benja. About death. About friendship and loss. After a while Fjoda had come with mugs of hot chocolate and had sat on a chair next to Norin’s bed.

His dad stayed next to Norin for a long time, even after Norin fell asleep. Fjoda had kissed Dad goodnight and left, clearing the mugs away.

When Norin’s dad left, it was nearly two in the morning. He softly closed the bedroom door and went to bed.

Suddenly there was a crash. The door of the closet flew open, and a dark figure stumbled out. Norin sat bolt upright. Someone was in his closet. Or rather: had been in his closet. Now they were in his room.

“Oh, no,” the figure muttered as they fell over the chair Fjoda had been sitting on.

“Who is there?” Norin sounded much braver than he felt.

“Who is there?” asked the figure. Norin hesitated. He knew that voice.

“Benja?” he asked.

“Who else would hide in your closet all night. Man, I thought your dad would never leave. He has been here for ages.”

“So you’re not dead. I knew it!” Norin jumped out of bed and hugged his best friend.

“If your dad had taken any longer, I would have been. ‘Girl died of boredom in a boy’s closet.’ That would have been some headline, wouldn’t it?”

“It would.” Norin laughed. “Why does everyone keep telling me that you’re dead?”

“How should I know? People tell weird stuff all day if you let them. I’m alive and kicking, as you can see. Or can’t see, as it’s dark. I was certain that you had some sort of lighting in this room before.” Norin could hear how Benja made her way to the light switch.

“Wait. If you turn on the light, Dad will come back.”