“The Empty Bed Beside Mine”

 “The Empty Bed Beside Mine”

My roommate left for the holidays, but the other bed doesn’t stay empty. Every night, the sheets twist on their own, and I wake to the sound of breathing that isn’t mine. When I look at the wall, I see the faint outline of a door — the same one from that city that no one remembers, the one that burned long before I learned how to dream.

by Cristina Davenport