Heartache walked in through the front door while Dog sat in front of the television, finishing his reheated tacos.
“No one invited you in,” he said, wiping his greasy fingers on his jeans.
“You’re thinking of vampires,” the intruder said, shrugging its shoulders.
He watched as Heartache made it’s way through the small apartment, tracking mud everywhere. It pulled books from the shelf, throwing them over its shoulder, the pages fluttering like wings. It shattered two mugs, souvenirs from a road trip, against the kitchen floor.
“You don’t have to do this,” Dog said.
“Nope. But it sure is fun.”