Upstairs, in a box on a shelf, hidden under two layers of clothes is a pair of binoculars. I took them out of Roi's suitcase before he left for his NYC, then upstate New York trip, and hid them in the box.
There was no planning before, no thought after. I walked into the bedroom to get something, saw his open suitcase, moved a few things aside, saw the binoculars, felt a surge of rage and panic, took them out and put them in the box and then went about my business, the rush of adrenaline slowly subsiding.
If any thoughts of the hidden binoculars entered my mind after they were mere sparks between broken wires. Am I dissociating? What is that?