Murray stood on top of the chair, stock still and swaying slightly. He had closed the blinds, but the room still shone. Placed around him were several knickknacks ranging from his early childhood to the present so he could see them one last time. He shivered as he tightened his thick necklace, but then loosened it once more. Shelley pounded on the other side of the door before trying the locked door knob once again.

“Murray, let me in. It is my bedroom as much as yours. Where did you put my Geisha dolls?” she said angrily in a shrill voice. Indeed, the dolls were placed where Murray could see them, beside her picture. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat closed.

“Murray?” she spoke in a worried tone. “I’m going to pick this lock if you don’t answer me.” He knew he couldn’t say something generic to her, like “I love you.” A speech would not do either. It would not do at all.

“Murray!” she pleaded, fear now present in her voice. He knew he had to answer her before six; she liked to watch Gilmore Girls.

“Murray?” she began.

“Thank you for teaching me macramé,” he was finally able to exclaim. “I made a rope.” And with that, he jumped.