Telling All

 When Fio was seven and her family moved to Texas, her assigned bedroom was at the front of the house, with a bathroom between her and Brother, whose bedroom was up against her parents' bedroom. Unfortunately, this arrangement meant that the room's transparent curtains floated on the breezes of the summer winds like ghosts, so Fiorella, who had a far too vivid an imagination even back then, sneaked into Brother's bed when the billows got to be too much for her and bribed him to silence by telling him stories she made up on the spot.

Mom caught Fiorella one morning when she hadn't retreated to her own bed in time and, being a wise woman, she asked "why" rather then chastising. When Fio explained about the curtains, Mom wisely added a night light to the bookcase between the bedrooms.

It satisfied Fio enough that she stayed in her own bed from then on, but she was still still afraid of being alone at night and would keep her eyes open as long as she could. Later, she clutched a bible to her bosom every night. Still later, a husband filled the bill.

Fiorella is pretty sure she's told you this story before, but somehow, it still dogs her. The psychologists among you can take it from there.