Marking Your Territory
It was a pack I’d never seen in my neighbourhood before. A panting bulldog and a big-eyed mutt, with a handsome guy in tow. We were all waiting to cross the street, them on one corner, me on the other, when the guy, standing sway-back with his left hand hooked on his pocket, looked over at me and sniffed. It was only polite to sniff back. The light changed and we all crossed, then went our separate ways. But I knew I’d be out that night, leaving my scent up and down the street, howling into the dark.
Waiting at the Coffee and Suds
He tumbles onto the chair next to her. Thighs suspended in grey-as-his-hair sweatpants wrinkled down to the elastic cinching his chicken ankles. Sniff. She pokes her nose into her cup. He blows his nose into a cloth hanky. Jams it into his pocket. Snort. She regrets wearing her hearing aid. He spills out his arms. Spreads his hand alongside her cup. Shuffle. She doesn’t look up. He speaks in gurgles. “You have no ring, honey. Widowed or divorced?” He puffs up his basket chest. Spin. She turns and leaves. He crumples into a pile on the floor.
Louella Lester is a Winnipeg (Canada) writer/photographer. She’s been published in a variety of journals and anthologies. Her CNF book, Glass Bricks (At Bay Press, April 2021), written in flash/micro, is a quirky look at her work life. You can find her on her website and her book here. She is also on Instagram @louellalester.
