Chef
A chef in the making,
Mixing different flavours,
But all what the foodies want,
are hot crunchy fried potatoes.Bubbles
I pricked up my ears, flicked the flies away with my tail and watched him from across the paddock. It had not been the first time that the little human was being mischievous. But I liked that. It was part of the reason why we got along just fine, except that he had no clue that I was on to him. He was a curious little thing. He seemed to be throwing a bar of soap in a makeshift rubber pool that lay on the grass in his garden. Water gushed in the pool from a hose nearby and he dived right in, splashing about and sending millions of bubbles flying and laughter filling the air. The bubbles seemed to fascinate him and the more bubbles he could conjure, the more animated he became. It would soon be time for his daily riding lesson and he would be making his way to the paddock. I was in good spirits and trotted about in anticipation. Perhaps today would be the day we jump over that fence after all.
“Mhmm.. so run this past me again,” she said as she looked over the tiny vial in her hands.
Leo hated repeating himself. He knew that the truth was far beyond anything she would comprehend but he had hoped that she would just trust him and listen. She owed him that much.
“Look, just drink it. One quick gulp, don’t try and taste it, make sure you get it all, every last drop of it. Do this tonight without fail, just before bed. It’s the only way we can stay together.”
His tone had been irritating and he knew it; a deliberate ploy he was hoping would fast track this moment. But she remained silent, her face not flinching once nor giving out any reaction. Her calm facade unsettled him. It was so unlike her. A few seconds later, she was still fiddling with the vial. Leo searched her face, trying to read her thoughts and started tapping his fingers nervously on the table. He saw her flick a glance at him and then slowly, she pushed the vial back into his hands.
She crossed her arms and gave him a penetrating look, “I’m not doing it, Leo.”
But she did not wait to hear Leo’s protests because seconds later she was walking out of the door. It was as simple as that. Leo dropped the vial on the table and buried his head in his hands. How could he get her to believe him? He had been waiting for her to call him absurd, irrational, a lunatic even. He had been expecting her to spew out accusations and incredulous expressions of shock, like he was used to. But none of that happened.
Her last words rung in his ears, “Goodbye, Leo, you’re nothing but a figment of my imagination.”
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