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B is for A Short Narrative

I heard a panting in the rain. 
Just as I was about to close the door to this episode I heard, "wait, wait".
It was my basest self seeking shelter from the elements. I let out a groan but still I held the door open for his drenched frame.
"Thanks." He panted some
"Mm." I said. "Just don't touch anything. I cleaned today." 
He nodded, still trying to catch his breath as he eased all the more into the suede sofa of mine.
"Great!" I thought, "Now my chair will smell like day old regret."
"I'll get a towel."
"Some scotch would be better."

If I had left him in the rain, he'd have pneumonia'd and died and that would have been the end of it. Now my kindness implores me to accede to his request. I brought him tea. He brought me a cold; sneezing in my chair.
"You should get out of those clothes."
The smile on his face said his mind churned rancid.
"Fine! Die then. I'm off to bed. There's fresh linen in the guest room. When the storm passes, let yourself out." 
"You's a real ol' dog you know." he said accusingly, "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't know you could be a god."
"If it wasn't for you," I countered, turning to him, "I would have known sooner."

Silence fell between us. My tight lips. His wet head dripping in shame.
"You... you have any Vicks?"
"On the bed head in the guest room."
"And again -"
"Yeah I know."
"Good night me."
"Good night you."

Tracy j Hutchings ©


  1. she is my friend. some times, the only one who makes sense.



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