Exhausted by remembering all the tasks to be striked and the new ones to be added, I carry my pillbox and stagger towards the bedroom. Suddenly, it pulls my sleeve and I stumble. I recover from my imbalance and look back to see its singleton arm and leg outstretched.

  I glare at it.

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this.” I point at it and accuse. It remains still, seemingly uninvolved with me. I slam it back at the wall, with all the anger I could muster.

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  It hit the wall but it bounced back to smack me at my face.

  I stood there in shock.

  “So even you want to be even, just like Joe!” I shout and kick it with my foot.

  This time, I dodge to the left before it could hit me.

  Surprisingly, it doesn’t close itself and remains still. I stare at it, an incarnate of annoyance, for some moments.

  I sigh.

  Laughing while I cover my forehead with my palm, I realize:

  Silly me, fighting with the door on a Friday night.