“My closet!" hissed the figure. A spiderlike hand darted out and grabbed the doorknob. "My closet! Mine!" And it slammed the door with a bang.”
“My closet! Mine!”
“If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.”
“My landlord is blase' about the crisis and hands me a newspaper. It isn't for reading. This evening, I decide, I'm not going to be Cuban. I grab my passport from the closet and make for the nearest hotel bathroom.”
“She opened my closet door just the tiniest crack. So I could breathe.”
“...my closet and I are on my own. My closet is of no use to me. It may actually be laughing at me. It's true, I hear it.”