Tags
disturbance, dorindaduclos.com, Fiction, hiding, ignore, light, night, Night Owl Poetry, routine, short story, sound, wee hours, writing
He caught me
I was trying to hide it. The wee hours had their hold on me, again. Every night the same routine, except tonight. He caught me. The glare of the back light made it impossible to shield what I was doing. I thought I was rather quiet, but it didn’t matter.
Sound or no, he just waited for me to notice him. I did, but refused to acknowledge his stare. Ignoring something or someone is easy enough, until of course, the daggers being thrown in your direction eventually hit their target. Okay, okay, I get it.
I’m disturbing him. I could shade it with my hands. I could stop altogether but that’s not an option. No, I’ll just keep ignoring, he’ll just keep glaring, and then the battery died. I needed to plug my phone in. He smiled and rolled over. Damn, he wins every time.
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