tap.tap.tap.tap.tap.My fingers curl.I tap them, keepingperfectly timed rhythm onthe chair's arm.I stop. I resist.Tap.I touch my hair.Just once. I swear.No - not once,lots of times.Gotta stay symmetrical.Tap. Tap.I touch my face withone index finger.I hold back. A few labored minuteslater - I brush my skinwith the other hand.Tap. Tap. Tap.I picture my mother dyingby breaking her neck on theopen kitchen drawer. I closethe drawer softly. I wipe downthe counter. Better.Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.There is something hidingin my closet. It wants to killme. I check in on itfive times. I sleep,facing the firmly shut door.Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.I resist.I breathe five breaths.Tap.