People Can Lick Too
My parents had gone to another city for a relative’s funeral, and I stayed home to study for exams.
I wasn’t scared.
Max was with me.
Max was a big dog.
Cowardly, but he always barked when someone came near the house.
He even barked at delivery footsteps.
That night, the news reported an escaped patient.
A man had fled from a nearby psychiatric hospital.
They warned everyone to lock their doors.
I immediately locked the front door.
Then the back door.
Checked all the windows.
Only the small basement window wouldn’t lock.
The latch spun uselessly.
I gave up and locked the basement door instead.
Then I took Max upstairs.
“You’re sleeping in my room tonight.”
As always, Max crawled under the bed.
I lay down and lowered my hand.
Every night before sleep, Max licked my fingers.
It was his habit.
A cold, wet tongue brushed my hand.
I relaxed.
I don’t know how long I slept.
I woke to a sound.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Water dripping.
I thought it was the bathroom faucet.
I could fix it later.
The room was too dark, and I didn’t want to open the door.
I lowered my hand outside the blanket.
A tongue licked it immediately.
Wet.
Max was there.
I closed my eyes again.
Minutes passed.
I woke again.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Louder this time.
From the b