STUDIO

When you were a kid and you stayed overnight at someone else’s house—a friend’s or aunt and uncle’s or grandparents’— you could never fall asleep right away. You would lay there trying, listening to everyone else go to bed, and the house would grow quiet. Then you would carefully get up and roam around. Or really, because you were trying to be quiet and not get caught, you would sneak around. You wanted to see what everything looked like in the dark. You wanted to look at things you didn’t feel comfortable looking at closely when everyone was awake. Especially with your friends and your cousins, you looked through their stuff. Their toys, their jewelry, school supplies, anything that was laying around. If something small and interesting caught your eye, something you didn’t think they’d miss, you took it. You tucked it in your bag, and it made you feel calmer. You’d usually stand or sit for a while in the dark living room, just listening to the sounds of the house. The refrigerator. The heat. Someone’s breathing. A car passing on the road. Eventually you would finally feel calm enough, and you would go back to your sleeping bag or cot or borrowed bed. You would curl up tight like a wild animal and fall asleep.