Random Scribbles · writing

You Can’t See Me – You Can’t See Me


Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham

He thought he found the perfect hiding spot. Then ‘she’ came into the room.

He thought, “I’m good. She can’t see me.” He remained still, unmoving. He felt safe.

“Mr. Stitches?” she called into the room. “Are you in here Stitch?” She turned on the light and looked around the room.

“She won’t see me he thought. I’m in the perfect spot.”

“There you are, buddy,” she scuttled across the room bending down to scoop him up as she came.

There was no escape.

“Oh barf,” he thought. “Now she’s going to kiss me on the nose. I should’ve closed my eyes. She wouldn’t have been able to see me if I hadn’t been able to see her.”

She kissed him on the nose and snuggled on his neck, making kissy noises. Gross. He could feel the hairball – it was about to come up.

He hated it when she got all lovey-dovey.