#81 Treasure

It would be any minute now that she would notice the kitchen door ajar and come outside looking for him. He had to hurry up or she would find him. This was his find and although he loved her, he didn’t want to share it with her. Her whistle grew louder as he shoveled the dirt back into the pit. Hurriedly he patted down the ground and left the scene.

She found him scratching his ear nonchalantly as he sat beside the solitary bench. Nothing in his furry face gave away the bone he had buried under the lime tree.

7 responses to “#81 Treasure

  1. good story – hate those grass-less dirt mounds.

  2. he’s a bad liar. all of his ilk are.

  3. Love the perspective here

  4. loved the styling, the content, the expression and the emotion, ur good woman

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