Page 125 - The Houseguest

one cares about me. Hell, I took in a stray cat who’s not being fed right now, is probably dead, but I feel nothing.”
A cat? I didn’t remember seeing signs of a pet when I probed her apartment. This could pose a problem. Not that I gave a shit about the creature, but the smell of decay from a rotting animal gets stronger by the day. I challenged her, “Why would you have taken in a pet if you feel nothing?” She answered me quickly, “It showed up, I fed it. Don’t read anything into it. It is...or was, as angry at the world as I am.”
“Did you name your pet?” I asked trying to prove that she was still a person who had feelings so that I could be the one to annihilate them. If I could get her to admit to having feelings, confessing her fear would be next.
“No, no name,” she said. “That would validate its existence to me and I viewed it as nothing more than a lost soul, just like me.” Validated or not, it was in existence and it posed a threat to my plan, but I couldn’t leave her and drive back to the city, not now. We were just getting acquainted.
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life
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