The next time I saw him, was the first time he tried to kill me…

When I awoke, it was strangely dark, and I shuffled to the kitchen for a glass of water.

I glanced at the microwave clock.  7:43 p.m.

I’d slept all day, but felt no better for it.

He wasn’t there at my feet, watching me, his eyes darting unsubtly from me to the pantry where I kept his treats.  I looked at the space on the floor where he should have been and sighed.

Taking a glass down from the cabinet, I bent to the sink, turned on the water and ran it for a second, waited for it to get cold.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)