Plastic People & Fake Masks

Chapter 7: A Ball of Black Fluff.

I sit back up, put the car in reverse, back out, and head home. I'll eat something, I'll go to sleep, and then I wake up and I start again. Until Friday, I am stuck on a treadmill. It's hell. It really is.

When I pull in the driveway of my home, I have to do a breathing exercise to calm myself down and stop crying, something that I learned in therapy awhile ago. Therapy was actually pretty helpful when I used to go. I don't go anymore and I'm not really sure why that is. I just stopped one day and I never went back.

I unbuckle myself and drag my body out of the car, trudging up the familiar steps I've walked up for four years now. I press my key in the lock when I reach it and twist the knob, a nauseating feeling of fatigue filling my bones when I walk through the door.

And another strange feeling filling me when I see a furry creature staring up at me on the floor.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask the dog (that sort of resembled a ball of black wool), who was panting happily while it stared up at me. Of course it didn't respond, it was a dog for gods sake, but I was still mildly irritated when it didn't. Who does this dog think he is? Being happy and blissfully ignorant without a single care in the world?

Okay I'm going crazy. I'm getting jealous of a damn dog, I've lost my mind. But seriously, who brought a freaking animal into this house? We all established before we don't want any animals to clean up after and we agreed to never have any as long as we lived in the same house together.

"I can explain."

My eyes snapped up to the panicky and worried looking nerd in front of me, who, coincidentally, the dog immediately yipped at and scurried over to. He brought the dog into the house. I'm going to slaughter him.

"He ran in front of my car and I hit him and he passed out, so I brought him here because I couldn't go back to my apartment and now he's awake and he's slobbering over everything but he's also really really cute and-"

"You hit the dog and then brought him into my house because you felt bad?" I asked dully.

"Well...yes. Please don't be mad. I mean look at him! He's really cute, and he likes poptarts!" He said the last sentence as if that alone would convince me that this mangy dog belonged in my household. I wanted to yell at him. Scream at him that I've had the worst day of my life and the last thing I needed was a smelly animal running around all over my house and getting shit everywhere.

But before I even got the first syllable out, he bent down and picked up the dog. It attacked his cheeks with slobbery licks and the giggles that streamed out of his mouth melted my heart. I can't yell at him. I can't yell at someone so precious and innocent and thoughtful. He brought an injured puppy into my house and fed it poptarts. That's the most adorable thing I've ever heard.

"Hide him from Tucker, he'll bite me in the ass if he finds out there's a dog here. Otherwise, you can keep him or whatever until you get back to your apartment. Okay?"

His face lit up with happiness and the dog yipped with glee. I couldn't fight the smile that worked its way to my lips. That dog is similar to him somehow. Maybe because they're both equally adorable.

"We should name him! What could we call him? Pancakes? Fluffy? Grizzly bear?"

"Grizz sounds cool," my mouth blurted out without my permission. I couldn't care less what he named the dog, why did I suggest that?

"Grizz! I love it! Do you love it?" He asked the dog, to which it responded with a lick to his cheek. Cute.

"I'm gonna go lay down, alright? I'll see you later." I headed towards my room, leaving the most adorable scene ever behind. I'm tired. I need to cry a bit more and sleep off the rest of the sadness.