Chapter 109

His clothes are in the top three drawers of the dresser, that’s it. Nothing in the bottom drawer because his mother thinks he might fall out while leaning down. And everything is so neatly folded away, from his socks matched together and rolled tight to his T-shirts to his goddamn boxers, each snap snapped, each pull-string tied, each fucking hem ironed down into place and folded into the drawer. This isn’t his room, it’s his mother’s, everything in here is where she wants it, every piece of clothing folded the way shefolds it. Nothing out of place, nothing amiss. Perfect because he isn’t.