Neighbors

— Don't turn off the light. I'm scared... — my little son looked at me with fear.

— What are you scared of? — I asked.

— There's someone in the closet.

— Are you sure? Let me look in the closet now? I'm sure there's no one there!

Without waiting for his answer, I stood up and went to the closet. The door creaked open. Peering inside, I saw a man of about thirty, with a light stubble and tousled hair. He looked at me with the same surprise as I looked at him.

Thinking I was imagining things, I closed the closet door and opened it again. The same man was looking back at me. He was still holding the door on the other side of the closet.

— Is there really someone living in the closet? — the man suddenly said.

— Do you have the same problem? — I was surprised. 

We laughed. The situation seemed both funny and surreal.

"It looks like our closet has a door to your closet," I stated.

"That could very well be it. Apparently, the closet is built into the wall, or maybe even in place of the wall, I don't know why," the stranger replied, puzzled. "Looks like we're neighbors?"

"My name is Karl."

"And mine is Mike."

We shook hands firmly, then closed the closet door. A moment later, I remembered that our closet wasn't built into the wall at all, and I opened the door again—but no one was there anymore. I spent a good half hour trying to find the door inside, in vain. The closet contained only children's things. I pulled the closet away from the wall, but even then I couldn't find the hidden door.

"Dad, what's wrong?" my son asked.

"Nothing," I replied, moving the closet back into place. "I must have imagined it," I decided, and left, leaving the light on, as my son had asked.