A dog barked. The little yappy sound echoed through my basement apartment. I moaned.
"Not now, Brent," I groaned against a scratchy throat.
He answered via bark. I cracked open one eyelid and then quickly closed it again. He needed to shhh, or we'd both be in trouble. Mrs. Mets took her landlord duties too seriously to find out I'd stashed a missing dog in the bathroom.
With a deep breath for strength, I attempted to leave the bed by lifting a shoulder. It screamed in protest and I fell back against my pillow.
I groaned, and even that slight movement forced another scream from my shoulder. Literally. It was like my bones were threatening to go on strike.
"That's what I f*****g get."
My entire body ached. Punishment for chasing Brent for six long blocks, through trees, around the
