There's a skeleton in your closet. Did you know? I hear it rattling, skulking and biding its time. Do you hear it? I see it. Long fingers - boney unsurprisingly, emerging from the wooden box. Teeth clacking, it bides its time. Bright colours fading, fabric rotting. Do you smell it? The scent of treachery. Sadness is airborne. Stick out your tongue, so warm and fleshy. Do you taste it? Despair comes creeping. Can you feel it? Those bones are reaching out from the past. And you will pay.