Six Skulls

One day I woke up and there were six perfectly formed metal skulls in the kitchen, staring back at me with empty eye sockets.

I wondered how long they had been there. Had they always been there, and I simply didn’t notice them until now? Or were they new? The impulse buy of my increasingly odd roommate?

And why six? That’s a rather random number, isn’t it?

Though to be fair, maybe all numbers seem random when they’re attached to metal skulls.

My instinct, of course, was to reach out a touch the skulls, see what they felt like. I don’t know why my instinct was to feel up a skull, but there you have it.

I didn’t do it, though. It’s not my property, and one of the most important aspects of being a good roommate is respecting their personal property. Even if it’s taking up the space where you chopped the fruit for your breakfast smoothie.

So I decided to go make do with a cup of coffee and headed out the door to work.

When I came home that evening, the skulls were gone.

From that day til the day he moved out eight months later, my roommate never mentioned anything abut them.

And neither did I, on the off chance that they had never been there to begin with.