The Master
The Master comes around only once a year. I wait by the bay window longer than is necessary. Food and potty brought to me so I do not leave my perch. His arrival timed to the second, but I do not know which one. My feet leaden like a toy solder as I fight to keep my eyes open.
When he appears, my outstretched hand will be shaking. If he looks me in the eyes I will melt. His message in a sealed envelope, tailor-made for me. I only hope that I can decipher the code, play my part, make him proud.
I tell myself I am made for this, that nothing else matters. But when the doctors come around, they do not share my belief. Their heads tilt this way and that, clicking like a metronome, blocking my view. They know not what they do. I yell for them to get out of the way, their chatter will scare him off.
But it is me they want to put away. And as they wheel me down the corridor, I glimpse out of the corner of my eye the Master who has come to save me, holding that manila envelope with words that would set me free. He tips his hat and offers a half-smile letting me know he’ll be back again next year. And until then, like waiting for Santa, I’ll try my best not to kill anyone.