The walls to my bedroom are now Ripe Apricot. And at three am, the orangey paint fumes set off the fire alarm.
Did you know that could happen? I didn't.
The waa-waa of the smoke detectors lifted me out of bed. The room was the dark of closed eyelids. Thinking it may be a fire, I grabbed the door knob—it wouldn't turn. I turned around and bumped into a wall, turned again into another wall. Like I was in a small box. I found the doorknob again—still wouldn't twist. It was like every nightmare you ever had.
The light came on. I was in the closet.