A tiny but overly dramatic tale.


John’s fat mother

John’s mother was convinced she had an influence on the weather. She had very bushy eyebrows that were linked in the middle and her backside

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“It’s 22:00, pulling down the soft linen, I slide into bed. I reach for the bedside lamp. A click puts a wrap on the day. I curl in on myself, it’s safe inside the darkness. My body feels weary, tired to the core of each bone. The sheets’ satiny caress dissolve away the day’s turmoil. I sigh and nestle deeper into the comfort. My cat’s familiar weight as she joins me draws a smile; bed time, our favourite part of the day. Sleep’s temporary relief comes easy; before I’d register the comforting rhythm of her purring, my mind’s lost in the dreamless void.

Hours later I’m awaken by harsh alarms. Straightening out the night’s stiffness, I reach to scratch the fluffy head in greeting. Her spot’s empty; heat or hunger woke her early. Padding towards the bathroom, I’m steered down the hall by a frantic noise. Desperate scratching and fearful screams come from the pantry closet. Opening the door lets out a blurry black arrow; straight for her bowl, she greedily laps up the cold water. Was she trapped there the whole time? An uneasy feeling knots my stomach… what the fuck slept next to me the entire night?