Little Friend

His finger slammed against the keyboard as he cranked out his paper before bed.  He knew if he just got it done and something written before bed, he could revisit it the next day and go from there.  His plan was perfect.  Finally, a productive evening.

Then, he found It.

It stared at him and you bet he stared back.  It stood, suctioned to the ceiling, crouching next to the fire alarm on the other side of the room.  Its dozens of legs sprawled out along its long abdomen.  Their gazes locked.  He froze.  He could only feel his heart pumping and Its stare.

No.  No, this can’t happen tonight.  His computer screen invited him back, the bright screen light calling him.  He looked down at his computer, and then shot right back up to It.

Oh thank god, still there. It just stood there, contemplating.  He knew It was.  Despite its pin-sized brain, It knew everything going on in its surroundings.

He attempted again, drawing his attention back at the computer screen.  He typed five words and raced his view back up to It.  Still there.

He decided that maybe It enjoyed his presence.  It was comforted by another being in the room.  They could find a middle-ground.  It can just sit there peacefully while he wrote his paper.  Okay, good plan.

He gasped for a full breath of air and released.  He glanced at his notes and continued typing.  After a full paragraph, he looked up at his little friend and It moved.

The little bugger slithered its way down the wall and he watched as it neared the kitchen of his studio apartment.  You can mess with my paper-writing, but you will not mess with my food.

He shot up out of my bed, grabbed the tissue box on his dresser, and threw it at It.  It knew he was on the hunt.  It sped down the wall and turned the corner fully into the kitchen and dodged his second throw of the tissue box.

It crept behind and under the microwave and took cover.  Nope, okay, didn’t happen.

He walked back to his bed, turned the light off, and went to sleep.  Can’t find me in the dark…


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