Snapshot Three: Falling

I am crying, sobbing, bawling, falling on the floor, collapsing into my dirty clothes. I lie there forever, letting it all leave me. The white wire shelves hold my stacks of neatly folded, color-coordinated, style-sorted clothes. The thin metal pole that stretches from one end to the other holds the rest: red, orange, yellow, blue, every hue. The structure soothes me in my prolonged moment of distress. When everything else is out of order, I think, at least my closet is under control.