The Door

It isn’t so bad, considering. There is a sink, a wobbly wooden table, a cot and even a bathroom.
The location is perfect: off a seldom-traveled path, hidden by monstrous, gnarled oak trees.
Every day, Those People bring me food and water. Sometimes, The Man comes alone. I don’t like what he makes me do.
He stinks.
Once, The Man surprised me with a pair of pretty-pink shoes, (“just to look at, though”), since I’d “done good.”
I hate being shackled, but the chains were long and allowed me to walk almost to the doorway—

but not





The Daily Post


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