I have not seen him in weeks, and now he’s less than 3ft away, looking down at me, head cocked
I’m sitting alone in the kitchen, drinking coffee and listening to a soft, rhythmic scraping sound that I assume is coming from somewhere outside – a door being planed two gardens over, maybe – because I know I’m alone in the house.
At some point it dawns on me that the sound is actually coming from within the kitchen. I look up to see the dog’s bed, minus the dog, slowly migrating across the floor. I watch for a moment in mute horror, trying to summon my rational side.
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