The Corner That Knew My Name

My daughter started describing her new friend at breakfast. She said he bends when he walks,

like he’s made of shadows. That he doesn’t blink. That he stands in

corners because “doors make him nervous.” I told her it was just imagination.

She frowned. “Then why does he only talk when you’re not in the room?” That night,

I checked the baby monitor. My daughter was asleep. But the corner of

her room was whispering back. And it knew my name.