Like smooth tarantula legs, I feel the tiny hand on my shoulder. Green eyes glow in the red light, 11:30
Mommy, I’m thirsty.
Okay, sweetie. Just this once.
Blonde headed goblin hydrated and tucked in, I climb back into an impossible dream of quietly reading, mimosa in hand.
I feel the cold touch on my shoulder, groan at the blinding red 3:30.
Sweetie, it’s too early. Go back to bed.
A shrill scream echoes from down the hall.
Mommy!
A gravelly whisper in my ear rips my heart and soul.
I’m thirsty.
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About the Creator
Sean A.
A happy guy that tends to write a little cynically. Just my way of dealing with the world outside my joyous little bubble.
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