by Justin Makii
Day 2: Gifts
The sound of plastic smashing against plastic jarred me awake. Surrounded by darkness, barely able to cling to consciousness, I hear Nissa dart past the bed and ascend the staircase all the while the pillow cries out for my return. I oblige, unable to resist its cozy, contouring warmth. As the darkness transitions into dreams faint meows echo in the distance.
Again jarred from my slumber, but this time by my alarm. I got up and headed to the kitchen to get my day started. Ascending the stairs my attention was drawn to the rectangular mat, another offering! What was the gift before me? Not fur, but feathers. A bird, dead, but intact, no blood, no marks, it is as if upon Nissa and this bird meeting, the bird died of heart failure or fear.
Off to fetch more paper.