Intruder

When I wake up there’s a small black man standing in my doorway staring at me in bed.

He lets out a low groan and I can’t help but surrender to the thought that maybe if I lay still enough I’ll disappear — or he will.

But he doesn’t (neither do I).

Instead, I feel my body go stiff as he crawls into my bed, gets on top of me and licks my face. The look in his eyes is menacing as he lets out a singular, “meow”.

Which, for those of you who don’t speak cat, loosely translates to , “get up bitch it’s time for breakfast”.

And now I have no choice. The king has spoken and I, his lowly servant, dutifully will myself out of bed to prepare his wet food.