The Man Who Entered Our Bedroom at 1:13 Every Night

from my wife.”

“Dan.” Karen’s voice cracked on my name. “Please.”

I looked at her collar.

She’d pulled it down enough for me to see a line of purple marker on her upper chest and, just beneath it, a hard swollen area under the skin near her collarbone. There was a dressing there. White tape. A little square patch. Not something I’d ever noticed, because continue reading …