Esther Gray enjoyed her retirement far less than her old team.
Flicking channels, watching stock tickers with growing annoyance, she silently cursed her decaf and her oncologist.
The only tough calls she made nowadays was how far she could be from a bathroom.
Two stuporous flies bumbled in with the chill morning air as she opened the door out to the deck. She snarled, swatting at them with her Journal.
She stared across the quiet forest. Below, the waters of the cove sparkled in the low autumn sun.
She almost stepped on the racoon. Face down, a viscid pool ringing it's matted corpse.
Esther toed it, Goddamned Ackerson's dog's off the leash again.
She reached for the phone, turning.
The coon's glistening entrails curled purple on her picture window, a single four letter word.
She dialled, furious, and uniquely, afraid.
No comments:
Post a Comment