New neighbors Andi and Hayden don't get off to the best start - and neither do their dogs. When the hostility between their pets, Bart and Rosie, leads to noisy barking, Andi and Hayden must solve their pet's tension or risk eviction from their apar...
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I finish pouring the liquid in my watering can. The lingering droplets slither through the bucket's nozzle, fall, and disperse along the dirt of my biggest houseplant. My apartment is quiet; The only noise is Bart's happy little huffs, and as I twist my can upright, I smile at the sound.
Bart's attention has locked onto Teddy since he saw him in the flesh, risen from the dead.
I couldn't have asked for a better outcome.
It's nearing midnight, and since I've turned off most lamps, my apartment is dark. The only glow bleeds from the lamp on my coffee table. Below it sit the stacked papers I've reviewed and prepared for the start of the work week.
Done watering my bushy green plant, I step from the corner of the apartment. Watering the abundance of houseplants was my last task before bed, and now, I'm more than ready for some shut-eye.
I've already gotten ready for the night, so there's nothing left to do but say goodnight to Bart. "Bart." I crouch and wrap him in a massive hug, stroking his furry back. He nuzzles my lap and warms my thighs. As I pull away, his smile transfers to me, tugging up the corners of my lips. "I love you. I'll see you in the morning." With one final kiss, I stand and move to my bedroom.
The room is a blanket of darkness. After shutting the door, I slip under the covers, letting the warm, welcome cushions cocoon my body. Breathing deeply, I crash onto the silk pillows, falling back.
The motion takes me to earlier—when I laid on my paddle board, succumbing to nature.
Obviously, this isn't the exact same. The soft, cushiony mattress is easier on my spine and much cozier than the board.
Still, while the mattress might be better in some ways, the board is better in others.
As I glance at my ceiling, all I see is darkness. It's not a pretty blue sky tinted with color. The room is also silent, no sloshing water, no chirping birds.
I shift to my side, replaying more of my time on the board—the sensation of lying with no worries, with nothing weighing on my shoulders, with no need to keep track of everything. On the board, I focused on a singular thought, nothing else running through the back of my mind, overheating it. On the board, someone else looked out for me.
I close my eyes, picturing the cool water rocking me back and forth, the wind on my water-kissed skin. I remember my hand planted on Hayden's board, how I ran my fingers over the smooth edge, squeezing to ensure it wouldn't leave.
To ensure it was still there.
To ensure my calmness was justified.
Now, as I lie in bed, I don't have a justification to be calm, to focus on a singular issue, or to focus on nothing at all. I don't have someone watching me, making sure nothing jumps out to bite me, kill me, or suck my blood.
