custodian: chad redden - NAP

torture chambers in their house but calls it a garage. For a
moment, Sandra wanted to get into her car, pantless, and
drive somewhere. Just to the highway intersection maybe,
and then turn around. It would feel like a kind of freedom,
wouldn’t it?
In the kitchen she poured a mug of warm water and ascended
the stairs slowly, letting her eyes adjust. Moving towards the
sound of Ray’s snore, Sandra felt like she was headed into
the engine room of a massive ship. She liked the way the
dark sanitized their house of its personal details each night;
she couldn’t make out any of the pictures on the hallway wall
even if she wanted to.
Climbing back into bed, she bristled at the damp patch on
the mattress, then quickly threw the cup of warm water over
Ray’s groin. She smoked another cigarette and finally started
getting sleepy again. “Ray,” she yelled, repeatedly slapping his
pillow. After a few moments of he came to life, his arms and
legs seemingly treading water as he rediscovered his limbs.
“You did it again,” she said.
“Oh god,” he mumbled, lumbering up. He took off his
wet briefs then looked down at his penis with a defeated
expression, imploring it for answers. Sandra listened to him
rinsing out his underwear in the sink, but what she heard
was the sound of something large and indeterminate going
down the drain.