So Dark The Night. Margaret Daley

      “No. I want to do it on my own. Five steps to the bed.”

      She started forward, counting to herself. Her shins tingled with anticipation of running into an obstacle. When she reached three, she held her arms out in front of her to search for the bed. At five she bumped into it. She groped along until she came to the left-side corner, then turned and walked toward what she hoped was the doorway into the bedroom, counting off seven paces. Again she expected to run into something with every step she took, making her movements stiff and awkward, conjuring up an image of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster from an old movie she’d seen once. She didn’t care what she must look like because she was determined to master this room, today.

      When she grasped the wooden door frame, she sank against it, dragging in deep breaths. Exhaustion wrapped about her like a heavy wet blanket, pulling her down.

      “Do you want to rest for a while before I show you the rest of the downstairs?”

      His gentle voice coming at her from a few feet away startled her. She hadn’t been listening for his approach, which was muffled by the thick carpet. Her vulnerability mushroomed, constricting her chest until it hurt. Again, that panicky feeling clawed at her composure.