[ WP ] You find an old object of yours in the back of the closet . Tell us about a single memory that slams into your brain when you see the object .

I stare at the closet, `` Honey, are you sure it's here? I'm not seeing it.'' 
 
 `` Maybe if you opened the door and took a look you would see it...'' I heard her shout back from the other room. She always shouted these days, aways. Damn woman thinks I'm going deaf, I'm pretty sure she's just forgetting whether or not she asked me to do something. Or maybe its my selective hearing at work, one or the other. 
 
 `` Honey, I am looking in the closet right now and am not seeing it...'' I shout back. 
 
 `` I know its in there, its in the brown box.'' 
 
 The door of the closet moves a little, a rusted hinge squeaks at me, I'm pretty sure that is the damn thing laughing at me, the damn thing is being held up by blasted cardboard boxes. I sigh and carefully get down on my knees. `` If you say so.'' I shout back. 
 
 I start rooting around the bottom of the closet, trying to remember just how big the camera is and therefore how big the box should be. But of course, my wife's fondness for packing peanuts and bubble wrap most likely eliminates that idea. 
 
 In the first box is some kind of plastic Native American totem pole knock off bullshit. I think back, it was Rog's, one our trip out to the Grand Canyon when he was five. Little guy just had to have it. I toss it over my shoulder, sending peanuts everywhere and keep digging. 
 
 Next I open the large box that was directly beneath the totem pole and find another gift from my son, this time from his rebellious years. The box was stuffed with empty bottles of alcohol. `` Hon! We got some dirt on the boy!'' 
 
 `` What?'' She yells. 
 
 `` We have some shit to blackmail Roger with now. I just found his stash from high school!'' I shout back, my voice getting hoarse. 
 
 `` In his sisters room? Are you sure it's not Mary's?'' 
 
 I smirk, pulling a half full bottle of tequila with a three pack of condoms stuck to the side. `` Pretty sure, Mar never could hold it, remember? You had to hold her hair for three hours after her prom.'' 
 
 I'll keep the condoms to myself. I hear a `` Humph'' from the other room. She hated thinking of her baby boy doing anything un-angelic, maybe she should finally hear about what I walked in on during his first winter break back from college. 
 
 I slide the box of alcohol next to me while hoping that Roger's taste in drinks have evolved since his school days. 
 
 I pull the last box on the floor towards me, grunting when it turns out to be much heavier than expected. I can already tell the camera is not in the box but my interest has been piqued, the box is nearly falling apart and the tape keeping it shut is yellow with age. I do n't even need to use the box cutter to open the thing, the tape breaks apart under the force of my hands as I pull the flaps open. 
 
 No wonder the box is so heavy, it's full of paper. From top to bottom sheets of loose paper, diaries, sketchbooks and one package wrapped in a thin red string that had been wrapped around the contents so many times what lay beneath was completely obscured from view. Except for the impression, that small circular shape worked into the thread. 
 
 I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. I had wondered where this box was, never really looking for it, but it had always stayed in the back of my head all these years, since college. No. That's not right, since school, second grade if I remembered right. Yes, second grade. So that would make this, I slipped my hand under the red thread parcel and pull out the letter. The Contract. All of a sudden I am having trouble breathing. I try to clear my voice and call for my wife but the best I can do is make a weird rasping noise. I try again and a voice, plaintive and weak, definitely not my own comes forth. `` Babe. Come here. Will you?'' 
 
 `` What?'' The reply sounds from the kitchen. 
 
 My knees are aching, there is sweat beading down my face, my cotton teeshirt is suddenly impossibly heavy. I suck in as much air through my chattering teeth as I can before belting out the only thing I can manage, `` BABE!'' 
 
 I try to stand up but my legs are no longer my own. The only thing I can do is rise three feet before I fall backward with a painful thump, my shoulder hitting the door which creaks in an almost taunting, cruel way. My hip comes down hard on Roger's stash and I hear a shattering noise in the background. Last my head hits the floor, `` Fucking hardwood'' I hear myself mumble as black spots start blotting out the ceiling, spreading and merging with each other, the darkness growing. 
 
 My hands creep to my face. I can feel something on my face, a wetness, why is my face wet? Then I notice it still clutched in my right hand. The Contract. 
 
 There it is, in that illegible scrawl, `` To...'' 
 
 The darkness encloses me.
