[My response to Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge]
I walked into my closet and saw a corpse. Swollen tongue lolling out of its mouth, it was hanging right next to my favorite suit (the color of wine, with black trimming). I screamed. Soon, all the household gathered there.
“What is this” — I pointed at the corpse, hand trembling — “thing doing here?” I asked, voice shaking, unable to contain the revulsion I felt.
“Sorry, mom,” said my youngest. “It’s just that” — he inhaled — “your closet is the best place to hang out.”
“Darling,” I said. “You should know better. It clashes horribly with my suit!”