his ears.
It was still dark outside, and he lay atop the comforter. This was his first night back in the bed that he had shared with his wife, and he could not yet bear the thought of lying beneath the covers.
Marlowe stared at him from the foot of the bed, his animal eyes glinting red in a flash of headlights as a lone car drove up Pinckney Street.
“It’s all right,” Remy tried to reassure the dog, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He studied his hands to make sure that the human flesh was still present, and not the pale, luminous skin of the Seraphim. “Just a dream is all.”
He threw his legs over the side, somewhat surprised that he had actually managed to put himself in a semirestful state. It had been a while, though he could have done without the dream.
Or should it be called a nightmare?
Marlowe hauled up his bulk, stumbled across the mattress, and plopped down beside him. “Okay?” he asked, flipping Re-my’s hand, demanding to be petted.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Remy sat for a while in the early-morning darkness, scratching behind the dog’s ears, thinking about his dream.
Is it possible? he wondered. On some subconscious level did he really wish to return to Heaven? He’d certainly thought about it from time to time, when things weren’t going well. He’d thought about it mostly since Madeline had died.
But is that what he really wanted? Had he really played at being human long enough?
“Hungry,” Marlowe grumbled, leaning his head against Re-my’s leg as he was rubbed behind the ear. “And have to pee.”
“Let’s get you fixed up, then.” Remy stood, grateful for the distraction, as the dog jumped from the bed and ran down the stairs to the first floor.
The air outside was crisp, the tail end of winter not wanting to surrender to the inevitable spring. Marlowe ran to the far end of the small yard, and then bounded back inside to eat.
It was the same routine every morning, almost mechanical in the performance of the tasks: fresh water down, a cup of food in the bowl, a pot of coffee to brew.
Remy hit the switch on the coffeemaker and leaned against the counter, watching the animal scoff down his breakfast. It’s like he hasn’t eaten in a week, he thought—and then wondered how many thousands of times he’d thought that very same thing as he leaned against the kitchen counter in the early morning.
Over the centuries, when he had met with others of his kind who visited the world of man, they often talked about the monotony of it all, the tedium of humanity’s day-to-day existence.
He’d never seen it that way. He’d found a unique excitement in the simple act of living amongst them— as one of them. And that excitement had only become all the more enthralling when Madeline had become a part of his life.
But now she’s gone.
“Out?” Marlowe asked, standing by the door again.
“Sure,” Remy answered, his thoughts continuing down a troubling path.
Marlowe finished his business and settled down with a carrot, as Remy poured himself a cup of coffee. He was just about to climb the stairs to his bedroom when he heard Marlowe speak.
“Heaven?” the Labrador asked.
Remy stopped and turned toward the animal that stood staring from the kitchen doorway. “What’s that, pal?”
“Go to Heaven?”
Remy set his coffee mug down on the steps and went to the dog. He often forgot how closely he and the animal had become linked during the years they’d shared each other’s company. What Remy experienced in his dream state, was oftentimes shared by the dog.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he explained as he squatted down in front of his friend, massaging him behind the ears. “That was just a crazy dream.”
The dog grunted softly with pleasure as Remy continued to rub.
“Marlowe go?” the Labrador then asked.
Remy sighed, finishing up by thumping the dog’s side with the flat of his hand. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
He returned to
It was still dark outside, and he lay atop the comforter. This was his first night back in the bed that he had shared with his wife, and he could not yet bear the thought of lying beneath the covers.
Marlowe stared at him from the foot of the bed, his animal eyes glinting red in a flash of headlights as a lone car drove up Pinckney Street.
“It’s all right,” Remy tried to reassure the dog, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He studied his hands to make sure that the human flesh was still present, and not the pale, luminous skin of the Seraphim. “Just a dream is all.”
He threw his legs over the side, somewhat surprised that he had actually managed to put himself in a semirestful state. It had been a while, though he could have done without the dream.
Or should it be called a nightmare?
Marlowe hauled up his bulk, stumbled across the mattress, and plopped down beside him. “Okay?” he asked, flipping Re-my’s hand, demanding to be petted.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Remy sat for a while in the early-morning darkness, scratching behind the dog’s ears, thinking about his dream.
Is it possible? he wondered. On some subconscious level did he really wish to return to Heaven? He’d certainly thought about it from time to time, when things weren’t going well. He’d thought about it mostly since Madeline had died.
But is that what he really wanted? Had he really played at being human long enough?
“Hungry,” Marlowe grumbled, leaning his head against Re-my’s leg as he was rubbed behind the ear. “And have to pee.”
“Let’s get you fixed up, then.” Remy stood, grateful for the distraction, as the dog jumped from the bed and ran down the stairs to the first floor.
The air outside was crisp, the tail end of winter not wanting to surrender to the inevitable spring. Marlowe ran to the far end of the small yard, and then bounded back inside to eat.
It was the same routine every morning, almost mechanical in the performance of the tasks: fresh water down, a cup of food in the bowl, a pot of coffee to brew.
Remy hit the switch on the coffeemaker and leaned against the counter, watching the animal scoff down his breakfast. It’s like he hasn’t eaten in a week, he thought—and then wondered how many thousands of times he’d thought that very same thing as he leaned against the kitchen counter in the early morning.
Over the centuries, when he had met with others of his kind who visited the world of man, they often talked about the monotony of it all, the tedium of humanity’s day-to-day existence.
He’d never seen it that way. He’d found a unique excitement in the simple act of living amongst them— as one of them. And that excitement had only become all the more enthralling when Madeline had become a part of his life.
But now she’s gone.
“Out?” Marlowe asked, standing by the door again.
“Sure,” Remy answered, his thoughts continuing down a troubling path.
Marlowe finished his business and settled down with a carrot, as Remy poured himself a cup of coffee. He was just about to climb the stairs to his bedroom when he heard Marlowe speak.
“Heaven?” the Labrador asked.
Remy stopped and turned toward the animal that stood staring from the kitchen doorway. “What’s that, pal?”
“Go to Heaven?”
Remy set his coffee mug down on the steps and went to the dog. He often forgot how closely he and the animal had become linked during the years they’d shared each other’s company. What Remy experienced in his dream state, was oftentimes shared by the dog.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he explained as he squatted down in front of his friend, massaging him behind the ears. “That was just a crazy dream.”
The dog grunted softly with pleasure as Remy continued to rub.
“Marlowe go?” the Labrador then asked.
Remy sighed, finishing up by thumping the dog’s side with the flat of his hand. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
He returned to
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