He’d expected to find it quickly.
Cupboard barren, Christo withdrew.
Paranoia gave him pause;
he wondered if they knew.
Could he have gone wrong—
Who was to say?
Empty stow—
Trouble
Now
The nonet poetry form fit this poem today.
Written for Ragtag Daily Prompt‘s October 21 (Friday) post.
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Life's Poetic Essence 
Ooooh, spooky and mysterious. There’s definitely trouble around the bend for poor Christo. I’m sure he’s up to the task, though.
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