Theings change

Funny how things can change, isn't it? I'm a careless person. I leave things for weeks at a time, and sometimes never come back to them at all. There are things I've lost in my own bedroom that I gave up searching for years ago. It's not that my bedroom is particularly big or messy, just that I really have a hard time keeping track of anything. Sometimes my losing things seems to be almost supernatural. Once, as a test, I placed a fork (something easily noticeable) alone in a cardboard box on the floor of my room. I didn't pay it any mind for a week or so; then, upon checking the box, I was startled to see it had vanished. The bare bottom was entirely visible. I don't live with any roommates or family members, so someone else seeing it and picking it up is extremely unlikely. However, my ability to lose almost anything and everything can lead to blessings. I've found things I'd never known I'd owned, and if I hadn't been searching for my car keys underneath my bed on a frustrated, rushing Tuesday morning, I may never have seen the girl beneath my bed. At first all that was visible in the dusty environs below my mattress were two cream-white arms, the skin of which looked smoother than the surface of a porcelain bowl. I had gotten her attention with my rustling around her, so she regarded me with eyes that looked like cool river water with flecks of gold beneath the ripples. Before the rational response of incredulousness at a person living below where I slept, I fell in love with the woman. Her appearance, at least. I tried speaking to her, but she seemed to be in some sort of daze. Wielding a light, I crawled deeper under the bedframe to get a better look at my room's secret tenant. As I came closer, I realized that a multitude of items I had been looking for were crowded near the girl, as if she had stockpiled them. My car keys were in this grouping and I snatched them up quickly, remembering for a second that I was unequivocally late for work. I thought of this only a second, however, because the moment I lifted the keys from the dirty carpet under-bed, the being that lay catatonic beside the pile began screeching in an inexplicable frenzy. The sound was like a high-frequency pitch of television fuzz. I slammed my hands over my ears in an attempt to protect them, dropping the flashlight as I did. When it landed near the assortment of objects collected by the girl, the howling woman seemed to fall back into reality and quieted down. She made a few confused huffs that sounded suspiciously like the fussing of an infant. Thoroughly bewildered and curious as I was, I wanted to stay and learn why there was a strange, inhuman woman in my room and how long she had been here, but my work was indeferable and the threat of losing it so great that I had no choice but to leave this creature where she lay. If she had been here for some time already, as it seemed to me, it wouldn't hurt to leave her until I returned. Tired and lethargic as working always makes me, I didn't at once remember the girl when I got back. Instead, I spent a good deal of time drinking beer and commenting on Facebook pictures. It was nearly 8:00 when I placed my cellphone beside me on the bed, only to hear it ring with a text message moments later. My hand went instantly to the place it remembered putting it, but when it grasped instinctively it held nothing, like claw machines at supermarkets seem to do on every occasion. The ringing continued; I was now getting a call. But the sound was muted. My memory jumped as if recoiling, and I recalled the strange meeting I had under my bed that morning. For a moment's hesitation, my skin grew taut with cold and realization; she was totally silent below, as if she wasn't there at all. I found another flashlight and dove beneath the slats to reclaim my newest lost possession. Unexpectedly, I was met with a wall of random affairs that weren't placed in such a manner before I'd left. Maybe I'd gotten the girl's attention, at long last, or maybe she rearranged my room each time I went out. I honestly wouldn't have notice