My hand drifted bedside, found the baseball bat, kept there for more violent games. Its weight reassured me as I rose.
In the dark, I slipped on some jeans. No shirt. Too restrictive.
Creeping down the hall, my heart pounding like a rail slinger, whistles go off inside when I see the intruder.
Strange, I thought. He’s dressed in jeans. No shirt. I rush forward, but his bat finds me first, knocks me into my glass coffee table. He bends down as I lay there, whispers “You’re caught in a loop.”