I woke up feeling like a snail without its shell: slow, slimy, and vulnerable.
My bed was empty. There wasn't even a smell of Gus left. My house was empty too. The late morning sunshine through my kitchen window seemed out of place. I could hear my chickens clucking outside.
Under my blankets I was still naked save for my underwear.
I covered my face with my hands and groaned without break until I ran out of breath and the black behind my eyelids sparked for lack of oxygen.
I didn't bother getting up. For some reason, the idea of feeling the air on my skin unnerved me. The idea of leaving the corner of my house did the same. I didn't want to move, like prey caught in the gaze of a predator.
Not to mention I was ashamed as hell.
My door creaked open. I peeked from between my fingers
