An Empty Closet

One of the only things I love about my current (soon to be ex) apartment is the closet. It's a fairly large walk-in with lots of space to hang my lots of clothes. It was truly a thing of beauty; only white hangers, hanging shelves for various items, clothing hung according to color.

It's empty now. And a part of me died with it. A closet is a part of someone's soul and mine is currently shoved into a red suitcase. Hopefully that part of my soul isn't lost over the ocean. Or left at LAX. Or stolen.

Yesterday my sister-in-law opened my bedroom door and was like "holy fuck" because the guts of my closet were spilled all around the bedroom to prepare for packing. Oops. No one was supposed to see that...