Whiskers

Adam stuffed the last piece of flesh into his mouth. Outside, the heavy dawn fog damped Jena’s clothes hanging on the drying line. As the sun rose behind the trees, flares of light shone upon the rusty metal doors, softly painted red. Adam observed the aurora glimmering through the window of the warehouse. When a beeping noise went off. The processor. Still blind focused on the                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      blood puddles outside, an interrupted shady laugh started to sprout from the deepest corner of his nicotine diaphragm. A bark.

[To be continued…]

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