Leave It Alone - Carol Arnold

Martha fixed him a cup of tea, serving it with the remains of a bag of chocolate cookies (extra soft, extra fudge!) that she had mostly devoured the night before. They sat together at the red linoleum table in the kitchenette, the puppies frolicking on the pine plank floor at their feet.

She knew he probably came around for money. She knew he probably had spent the twenty dollars she had given him on drugs. She had been stupid to give it to him, but her heart had ached so at the thought of the puppies alone with him, she hadn’t been able to help herself.

“What’s their names?” Martha said. The cookie she was holding collapsed in two, the other half falling on the floor. The pups sniffed at it as if unsure whether it was food or not. One of them, the bigger one with the spots, took a tentative lick.

“Leave it alone!” the boy-man said, then picked the cookie up and stuffed it in his own mouth. It was at this moment that the thought occurred to Martha that his skeleton body might be caused by something other than drugs. She thought again of the angel wings on his back, wondered if they were flapping softly as he chewed.

He needs a mother, she thought, no, not a mother, but something. He needs me.