Under My Bed

Nonfiction,Online Issues,Spring 2016

Under My Bed

Jody Keisner

If people always knew when intruders had broken into their homes, no one would ever die this way. I grab a chef’s knife, the knife that slices through raw chicken, bone and flesh, and return to the living room where the moth persists at the lamp. There’s only one way to be sure. I’ll have to check.

/ Read ›