Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Coming Home Late

Three steps up lightly on the left side. Skip the fourth. Step to the right, then middle, middle, middle and skip the last. You pause, head down, hand on the banister. It seems like you are safe.

Then the dog barks one sound with his mouth closed; one eye opens a slit. It’s quiet for a few seconds while you hold your breath, until he lifts his head up like an angry man and lets out a loud one in three quick bursts Rarara.

Ssshhhhh, you hiss. Betrayal. And usually he’s so likable.

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