Daily story, December 6, 2024

I wasn’t sure if it was a squeaky gate or a whimpering dog, but it was keeping me awake. If it was a squeaky gate then it was insane for someone to be opening and closing it over and over again at three in the morning. If it was a dog then someone had been very cruel to it. So either way, I felt I had a deep and inarguable justification for screaming out of the window. To do so was a moral good. So I lay there until the sun came up, long after the squealing stopped, trying to think of words I could scream that would cover either possibility.