What Dreams May Come

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Gardo had a tiring day at work, and he did not appreciate his wife nagging him about the perfume she smelled on his shirt. About a mistress who doesn't exist. His last passenger, a toad of an old woman, practically doused his taxi with the pungent smell of her perfume; of course the smell was going to stick to him.

Annoyed at his wife's suspicions, he turned his back on her and left for their bedroom. Where he crashed on their bed and slept–

It didn't even take five minutes and she was at his side again. Nagging, and yapping, and crying–

"Good God, Fely. Let me sleep!" Gardo found himself saying.

"Let you sleep? Sleep with who? With your mistress? Who is she? Where is she?"

Gardo squeezed his eyes shut.

"Tell me what she looks like!"

To make his wife stop, Gardo decided he'll just ride along. He tried to remember what his passenger looked like. Long arms. Long brown hair. Slanted eyes. Short snout–

Wait, that wasn't right.

"You see her? In your mind? Are you thinking about her?"

Gardo started to nod– which he didn't want to do. Fely held his hands. She was smiling. Gardo frowned. Fely doesn't have white hair. Her hair isn't curly. She moved closer. She doesn't wear glasses.

"Remember what she looks like."

Despite Gardo's confusion at how Fely looked so different, his mind went back to thinking about his passenger. Which now oddly looked like a dog. "Fluffy," he mused.

Fely pressed her cheek close to his. And whispered: "You are now a siegbin."

Her grip on his had tightened. Gardo could feel pain shooting up his arms. He howled in pain.

And then he woke up.

To his wife screaming.

"Shut up," he wanted to scream. But all that came out of his mouth was a snarl.

He so wanted to shut his wife up. So he did the next best thing.

He bit her. And he kept biting. And then he started eating. With the help of his long limbs. His short snout did not hinder his feeding at all. And then Fely stopped screaming, and Gardo felt content.

Except, he wasn't Gardo anymore.

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