After dinner I played with Kappa. The bog-creature must have been oozing out some kind of tonic to go with his natural sunscreen; being around him melted away all the stress I’d picked up from the day. Around nine-thirty, he started getting sleepy, and I couldn’t justify keeping him up to distract myself. Those lucky enough to be able to sleep should be allowed to sleep.

After one last, moist hug, I told him goodnight and watched him pad off toward the wash room. My stomach sank a little more with every step he took.

When he was gone, I turned and started toward the front stairs. My crawling pace stopped when I saw the flickering light coming from the open door of the TV room.

I turned away from the stairs and went like a moth to the light.

I peeked my head in. Conrad was sitting on the couch. One of his ears twitched toward me. I took that as an invitation to come in.

Was that grasping at straws? Probably. Was I going to let that stop me from using up every possible excuse to avoid going to bed? Not a chance.

Conrad was scrolling through Netflix.

I stood behind the couch and looked over his head. “What are you watching?”

He didn’t look around. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“May I join you?”

For an answer, he scooted to one side of the couch.

I skipped over, sat down, and pulled my legs up under my butt. “You appear to be in the anime section.”

He lowered the remote. “They’re all so weird.”

I laughed. “Oh, dude. You have no idea. Do you like weird? I can show you weird.”

“I’d rather see good. Can you help me with that?” He tossed me the remote.

“Ohhh, I suppose, for a beginner, we can do something good. Do you like action?”

After wasting several minutes quizzing him about his tastes in entertainment and getting almost nothing but shrugs, I decided to show him One-Punch Man. I figured it had the best chance of winning him over. It had comedy, action, and—because I don’t believe in going too easy on a beginner—a healthy dose of weirdness.

As it played, I’d glance over at Conrad from time to time, to see if he liked it. It wasn’t easy to tell, but I thought he was at least intrigued by it. His eyes were glued to the screen, and his ears were turned to it like two radar dishes.

I cuddled into the corner of the couch, feeling all smug and content, to enjoy the show.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Two episodes in, my exhaustion started telling. By the forth episode, I was having trouble staying awake.

“Mera?”

I roused myself with a deep breath and forced my eyes open. Conrad had paused the show. He was watching me.

“It’s Emerra,” I muttered. I forced myself to sit upright.

There was a brief silence, then Conrad said, “Kappa calls you Mera.”

“Kappa is adorable. He’s also hard to correct. Whenever I try to teach him to say my name, he chants it. Eee-mare-ah! He makes it sound like abracadabra. I feel like I should be in spangles.”

Conrad chuckled, and it sounded exactly like a dog would chuckle—a quiet noise coming from the throat and a chuff. I smiled in a sleepy kind of way.

“You can call me Mera,” I added. “I don’t mind. I just wanted to make sure you knew so you wouldn’t be embarrassed later.” I put my elbow on the arm of the couch and propped my head up on my knuckles.

“Do we need to pause the show?”

“Show’s already paused.”

“Do you need to go to bed?”

No bed. Never mind that I was nodding with sleep. Bed was the enemy.

I shook my head.

He eyed me for another second, then looked back at the screen. “Do you want to at least lay down?”

“Can we keep watching the show?”

His dark lips curled up at the edge. “Yeah, we can keep watching.”

He moved down to the floor and leaned back against the couch. His long legs stretched almost all the way to the entertainment center. I curled up on the tiny couch so I could fit. With my head on the arm of the couch, I could look over Conrad’s shoulder and see the screen.

“You good?” he asked.

A cheerful “hmm” was all I could muster for a reply.

He pressed play.

Each time my eyelids drifted shut, I forced them open with a dose of dread and some willpower. It was harder to make myself focus.

“Conrad,” I mumbled.

One of his ears twitched toward me when he heard his name.

“Can I touch your fur?”

For a moment, he was still. Then his broad shoulders shifted in a shrug, temporarily blocking my view of the show. “I don’t mind.”

I patted the fur on top of his head. It was even thicker than it looked. There was some texture to it, but it was also deep, soft, and oh-so-nice to touch.

My hand wandered over to one of his ears. I ran my fingers along the tiny hairs on the rim. When I got to the rounded tip, his ear involuntarily twitched out from under my touch. I smiled.

“Sorry,” I lied.

I returned my hand to his head and dug my fingers deeper into the fluff.

“You have a beautiful coat, Conrad. It’s nice.”

One or two more pats—then I needed to stop. No, really.

With a wrench, I pulled my hand away and tucked it up by my face. There was a strange scent on it from his fur. It was musty and heavy—if a smell can be heavy—and it was so strange, my nose couldn’t decide if it was a good smell or a bad smell.

Through the haze of my fluttering eyelashes, I saw him shrug again. His low voice blended into the silence of my sleep.

“It keeps me warm…”

There was darkness and peace.

I don’t know how long I was out for, but a sense of movement woke me. A flow of fur ran under my hand.

“Charlie?” I said.

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. There was more silence and a drowsy timelessness. Someone put a blanket over me, and I was gone.

At first, I dreamed of dogs. Then the hospital. Then a crowded study where masks loomed. Wayde was sitting in front of me, a discolored corpse with red zig-zags on his chest.

No.

Wayde alive, sitting in front of me, his face, angry and sad and afraid. Wayde with bright red blood, saturating his clothes, burbling out from the hole.

Alive again, that same face. Angry. Sorry. Afraid. There was a weight in my hands, pressing into my lap. The sound of a shot.

I jerked out of my nightmare and landed on the floor.

It wasn’t a nice way to wake up, but it was enough of a shock, I was no longer sleepy.

Conrad must have turned off the TV and gone to bed, so at least there was no one to watch me struggle to untangle myself from the blanket. Once I was free, I folded it up and tossed it over the back of the couch.

My ears were still ringing when I left the room.