I write short stories and post them on my blog on Fridays. I hope you like this short story, “Switching Bedrooms.” If you like my fiction, check out my fiction collection, Crushes.
I wrap myself in the soft fuzz of it all every night except the second Monday of every quarter, when I sleep over at his house to save a few gallons of gas. His room stays hotter than the attic back home in the summertime, when Nanna and I would switch rooms every two seasons to spare her the heat exhaustion. Randy and I sleep all skin out on red UofL sheets, his Pit Bull under the bed stretching his legs across the hard wood floor. Sometimes I wrap my arms around my shoulders to help me pretend I’m snuggled inside of that cheap green microfiber blanket from Target that I know my mother takes off of my bed and uses while I’m away. Last quarter I marked the front left corner with a black sharpie, only to find it moved to one of the top corners when I’d returned. Mother never asked any questions about my blankets or my sheets growing up, for which I remain thankful as we wade through the early stages of Parkinson’s. It’ll be too late to ask her if she knows about me and Randy soon, for which I’m also thankful.