11 :: Closet Man

The youngest, Leo, discovered him during a game of hide-and-seek. Pushing past the mothballed coats, he found a man sitting cross-legged in the shadows. The Closet Man wore a suit of gray wool, far too large for his frame, and held a stopwatch that ticked only once every eleven seconds. "Are you hiding too?" Leo whispered.

The Closet Man turned. His eyes were the color of faded newsprint. "I am the keeper of the ," he rasped. "The time between the breath and the word. The space between the dream and the waking." 11 : Closet Man

When Leo’s mother called him for dinner, he scrambled out of the closet. He looked back once, seeing only the dark gap of the door. From within, he heard the faint, rhythmic tap-tap of an eleventh finger, counting down the moments until the house fell silent again. The youngest, Leo, discovered him during a game

He showed Leo his collection: eleven glass marbles that held the reflections of people who had once lived in the house, eleven dried pressed flowers from a garden that no longer existed, and eleven secrets he had overheard through the drywall. "Are you hiding too

"Because the world outside is too fast," Eleven replied, his extra finger tracing a circle in the dust. "In here, I can make a single minute last an eternity. But you, little bird, you have twelve years to grow before you’ll understand the beauty of standing still."