You sleep with your feet covered because you’re too afraid of something touching them in the middle of the night. -Food for thought Georgia Something annoying was playing with my foot. Creep, it had to be. Creep was my cat, and he was the biggest bastard in the world. Every morning at five, he’d start tumbling around the house. If I didn’t get moving within ten minutes of his gymnastic session, then it’d get worse. For instance, he’d lay on my chest, placing his ass towards my face, and slowly swish his tail back and forth until I either knocked him away, or got up. The feet ticking thing was new, however. So was the way he started running his fingers up my leg. Fingers. Leg. I sat bolt upright, gasping in terror. My mind was locked in a horror I couldn’t get out of.
