I remember the hats. Thirty-two hats dot the wall. Each on their own nail. From baseball caps to wide-brimmed cowboy hats, velvet hats, Mad Hatter hats, big pink hats, hats with veils, hats with stripes, hats with polka dots, hats with tassels, hats black, blue, red, yellow, green, purple. No hat, not tonight.
Masks go back on tomorrow.
She rolls out of bed, walks to the bathroom. A lighter mud trail follows her feet. He watches her movement in the candle light, as she gently sways. She turns on the shower and lets the water run. I don't know if I want to move.