Red Mountain

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The room tilted back and forth, as if he were in the damaged hull of a ship taking on black seawater. Robert swayed in and out of consciousness as his body drifted into shock.

He dropped his head to the side and stared beneath the family room couch. At the moment it felt as if his whole life was summarized in the objects collected there since the last time they’d moved furniture—a world of lost or forgotten things, pushed beyond the reach of any halfhearted search of the hand. Among the dust bunnies Robert could make out the contours of Connor’s old baseball mitt, some rubber dinosaurs and pieces of ancient Halloween candy. There were also Peggy’s Christmas catalogues, Nugget’s old dog brush and a chewed leather slipper that had gone missing over a year ago.

Men he didn’t know where ransacking his house. He heard their heavy footfalls thundering up and down the hall, dresser drawers being thrown open and the squeal of rarely used closet doors he’d always meant to oil. He turned his head back to the thing pinning him to the floor and forced his eyes to refocus.

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