The Dry Handle

"Why is this wet?" I muttered, wiping my hand on my pants. "This one is wet too?" My heart began to race. "But... why is this side dry?" The realization hit me colder than the rain outside. "Phew! Just my imagination! Everything's safe!" I announced loudly to the empty room. Then, I crawled into bed, pulled the duvet over my head, and silently dialed 911.