Waldo the puppy had redecorated. The newspapers were artfully shredded, and the plants enthusiastically relocated; the carpets had been personally rinsed. As he put the finishing touches on a disemboweled throw pillow, Waldo heard keys at the door.
“Shh, don’t wake him,” said Eric as he led his date inside.
The cat leapt onto Bernard’s desk, swatting his typewriter. “Dammit Snickers, Daddy can’t play anymore. He’s got work to do, see?”
Snickers stared at Bernard, his chocolate paw on the typewriter. He mewed plaintively.
Bernard stared at the page. Pure white.
He grabbed Snickers’ toy. “Five more minutes, that’s it.“
The crowd swelled, so she climbed onto the mailbox to see. Flags waved from every window. Men cried openly.
When the dead man’s car slowed, she saw him in the back. There was makeup on his face and his suit didn’t fit right.
He looked a lot like her grandmother.