Creature Comfort

Semi-conscious, she turns, feeling the comforting warmth of Smudge against her leg.

Her husband didn't approve of pets on the bed, but Joe's been gone two years now. 

Her sleepy stretch is mirrored by Smudge's soft paws pushing against her through the duvet. Joe didn't think pets should live indoors at all, but Smudge was tolerated to frighten mice away. If a mouse did get in, Smudge would let them know and guard it's exit from the stair cupboard until it made a mistake and the trap got it.


The image of the lifeless mouse drifts with her into drugged sleep. There it morphs into Smudge; a limp scrap of fur at the side of the road. Her stomach clenches again with grief at the memory.


The soft creature on her duvet rests its head on her leg.

Now fully awake, she stares into the darkness, heartbeat pounding in her throat.

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