The Fourth Closet Graphic Novels & Stories

"I need you to pack my stuff up, most everything I have is already in boxes and bags—" "You know running away", she winced and then continued, "I mean that plan you've had, since you were like ten, is known, right?" she asked warily. "Well of course", he huffed, and "I was ten", he pointed out, "No, this is a better one. Just go to my closet. The code is 94824", he said, "All I need from you is to get everything inside my closet. everything, the books, the boxes, toy bands, tiny–"

A photograph on the mantel. The photograph was of Chloe. Her fourth birthday. Holding a piece of cake. Not smiling. He'd taken the photograph himself. He remembered the day. She'd blown out the candles and everyone had clapped and she'd looked at him with those grey eyes and he'd thought, she doesn't like parties. He hadn't done anything with that thought. He'd put it somewhere and left it there. Now he looked at the photograph and thought it again and still didn't do anything with it except look at the frame, which was silver and which Claire had chosen, as she had chosen most of the things in the apartment. Everything arranged to be admired. Everything selected for the impression it made f

It makes no sense, but nothing does anymore. Someone’s definitely been using this room because the closet door is slightly ajar, and I can see some clothes in there. A jacket is draped over a chair. It looks like Adriano’s. The drawer of the nightstand is cracked open too, and there’s something colorful inside. Like wrappers? I’m lucky my other hand is free, so I move to pull the drawer open. Condoms. Those wrappers are condoms. Oh hell. I shut the drawer and lie back down on the bed.

he replied, then I nodded and turned toward the wardrobe only for him to stop me. “Not there,” he corrected, pointing at a white door at the far end of the room. “That's the closet,“ he informed, and following his gesture, I opened the door to see an enormous closet neatly arranged with rows upon rows of clothes. I stepped inside, my fingers brushing past hangers as I searched. Eventually, I picked out a simple top and a pair of shorts that looked comfortable enough. Then I turned to leave, but froze. “I didn’t get underwear,” I muttered to myself, cheeks burning.

“After Ruth.” “After Ruth,” he agreed. They walked out of Priya’s apartment and into whatever came next. And behind them on the kitchen counter, propped against the wall, a five-year-old’s crayon drawing of a woman in a yellow dress looked out at a room that had been the site of the most honest conversations of the last four days and waited, patient as everything important always was, for the person it had been made for to come back to it.

I follow her down a short corridor, she opens door number 7, “This is us, we actually have this place to ourselves at the moment. That may change if a new student comes, or if there is a falling out in another room or dorm.” The room is gorgeous, four queen beds with bedside lockers, four desks, a couple of book cases; it’s perfect. “This is my bed, you can choose any other, but I put your stuff on the one next to mine.” She moves to one of the two closed doors, “The closet is in here, it’s split into four and the space is colour coded to your bed, so the laundry service put the right clothes in the right place, my bed is indigo, so my closet space is indigo, get it?”

It’s so spacious and lovely. The walls are white. The bed is big enough for four people to sleep in and even has a canopy. The blankets and pillows are white and pink. There is a dressing mirror right beside the bed, which is also white. It’s a room designed for a princess, and the closet, oh the closet: My shoes look at home in there. I was very embarrassed when Mr. Hot Stuff came and saw me dancing. I must have looked like a fat dolphin having a hard time swimming. But the closet was big enough that all my shoes fit in there. Surprise, surprise.

“I don’t want to check the cedar closet anymore.” Laughing, she straight-arms me, keeping me at bay long enough to duck out of my embrace and dance nimbly to the closet. “We’re already here. It’ll take two minutes.” Inside, several zippered protective garment bags of varying lengths hang tidily from the closet’s bar, with neatly stacked shoe boxes lining the shelves below. Starting with the longest bags, Grace pushes the rest aside, unzipping the first. Not finding what she seeks, she moves to the next.

Eva agreed. They walk towards their room but before they even reach their door, they notice the door next to their's was ajar. Something was swaying in the air inside. It looks lik something dawned at them that made them lookd at each other before pushing the door wide open. What they saw next was something they would remember for the rest of their lives. It was Giselle who cried first for she and Violet were close. Eva was standing behind Violet remembering the last thing she said to her.

It was big enough for the four of them. There was a sitting area with a good size sectional sofa and huge flat screen tv mounted on the wall. They saw four doors knowing one had to be a bathroom and the rest closets. The first door had a huge walk-in closet with her mates clothes. She could smell the hint of mint. Definitely Xander’s closet.