Close up Photograph of a tiger

The Tiger in my Walk-In Closet

The tiger in my closet appeared at just the right time. Life was overwhelming, and I wasn’t sure I
could cope. But the tiger reached out, and I accepted her overtures.

The tiger in my closet has fur that smells of rain and fresh mown grass. Her warmth comforts
me. When I’m with her, I feel peace.

The tiger in my closet is clearly educated. She knows about politics, philosophy, science. I talk
with her at length about the news of the day.

The tiger in my closet has strong opinions. She’s not afraid to speak her mind. Her words are
powerful, persuasive. Her voice is low and resonant.

The tiger in my closet is self-sufficient. I ask her if she isn’t lonely in there when I’m away, but
she says she has plenty of things to amuse her. She doesn’t tell me what. I don't presume to ask.

The tiger in my closet knows my secrets, some I’ve never admitted to myself. I don’t know how
she knows. I find this disconcerting, but I realize she has my well-being at heart.

The tiger in my closet says she’ll be leaving soon. That I don’t need her anymore. I don’t want
her to go. I’ve grown accustomed to having her ear.

The tiger in my closet is gone. She left no address, no number. I feel her absence keenly. But she
somehow left me stronger, so I’m forever in her debt. And now I face the world with sharper
teeth and claws.


About the author:

Claudia Wair is a writer and editor from Virginia. Her work has appeared in JMWW, The Wondrous Real Magazine, Typehouse Literary Magazine, Corvid Queen, and elsewhere. You can read more at claudiawair.com, or find her on Twitter @CWTellsTales.

Header image: Jessica Weiller on Unsplash

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