Кладбище домашних животных

18

           

           Hewouldslidedowntowardsleep,thinkabouthowitwouldbetocomefully,coldlyawakeinthePetSematary,toseethoseroughlyconcentriccircleslittenbymoonlight,tohavetowalkback,awake,alongthepaththroughthewoods.Hewouldthinkthesethingsandthensnapfullyawakeagain.

           Itwassometimeaftermidnightwhensleepfinallycreptuponhisblindsideandbaggedhim.Therewerenodreams.Hewokeuppromptlyatseven-thirty,tothesoundofcoldautumnrainbeatingagainstthewindow.Hethrewthesheetsbackwithsomeapprehension.Thegroundsheetonhisbedwasflawless.Nopuristwoulddescribehisfeet,withtheirringsofheelcalluses,thatway,buttheywereatleastclean.

           Louiscaughthimselfwhistlingintheshower.

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