The sleeper

I sense it on the floor next to me. It is a dog-like creature, white in form. Every night it comes to lie on the old rug, it bears a gift from my past. An old button from a ill-fitting coat my mom made me wear, a love letter from an old boyfriend I thought I would marry, a pretty pink mobile blown away by the wind one day. I put these items away in a box, though they made me shudder everytime I remember them. Soon I am used to its company. My hand goes down to stroke its rich white fur, and I wonder what it can be. The spirit of an old boyfriend? My mother? Grandfather? I know I value its companionship and the gifts it brings, and I wonder when it will have nothing left to give, and if it will disappear then.

I wake up and stare at it, and realise it does not sleep, but just watches me. It stares out at the moon and howls, as if to say it knows what it means to be alone.