I am no longer allowed to read murder mysteries before bed, especially those featuring male psychopaths and unsuspecting women. They freak me out to such an extent I lie in bed wondering what would be safer – getting out of bed to check that the doors are locked, thereby risking running into any murderers that might be hiding in my home, or taking my chances on the locks and hoping he won’t notice I’m home. (Now that I type this, I realize that it sounds like I’d rather have him murder my roommates instead. Which is probably true, homo homini lupus and all.)
And then I tell myself not to be ridiculous and I go and check the locks just to be on the safe side. Tonight I found the back door not only unlocked but actually open, and I had to restrain myself from checking the bathroom to make sure there wasn’t anyone in there. It even crossed my mind that the silence from my roommate’s room meant she was dead, instead of sleeping, and I might find a trail of blood leading me to her in the morning like in a bad urban legend.
Imagination? Got lots of that. Common sense and a reality check? Not so much.