The Dog & The Moth

Chapter Two

I swallowed tightly.

"Adam, you say?"

Sweat dripped down my neck.

"Yes sir," he gave a polite smile, "I'm sorry, have we met? You look vaguely familiar."

"Perhaps we have. I can't be too sure."

Yes we have, I thought.

"Do you know Bishop's Market?"

"I do."

"I knew it!" he laughed, "Ten years ago, I think, you helped me get back to my mom!"

I pretended to think, "Oh yes, I remember you now."

Adam ran a hand through his hair and sighed happily.

"Thanks, by the way. Who knows how many people could've kidnapped me, right?" he laughed and held out his hand for me to shake. I took it.

"Have a nice day, Professor Upshur."

I nodded and he laughed.

He left ten seconds ago.

He left thirty seconds ago.

He left a minute ago.

He's been gone for over five minutes and I'm still staring at the door, waiting for it to open, and when it does it's nine-thirty and it's not him, it's multiple students.

They all calmly come in as I get up to write on the Epson whiteboard.

"Hey guys, I'm going to take attendance and then we'll start." I greeted them with a laid back smile.

I had obtained seventy-four students this year, which was twenty-three more than last year's class.

"Adam."

The students were relatively quiet. They asked questions that were actually logical.

"Adam."

Everyone left my first class.

"Adam."

I looked him up.

"Adam."

He'd asked to be Facebook friends. I accepted.

He had a lot of friends. Two-hundred-eighty-two. He used to be in Glee Club. He calls himself "the faggiest of the fags". Adam went to some private school that celebrated the arts. He was highly artistic, his music, sketches, and paintings all proved it. He made posts dedicated to them.

Fuck, his voice was beautiful.

He lives in Gray County. He's most definitely upper middle class, or humble and high class.

There's a picture of him with his dog outside a one-story red and tan-bricked home. The caption read "Goodbye, Papaji!" with a crying emoji.

The dog was a Chow-Chow. Red fur and a face that looked like it got hit by a van.

Fucking ugly ass dog.

I had a couple of dogs myself, a cat too. They weren't ugly in the slightest bit.

I killed the family dog when I was eight. It was a small dog, an awful in-bred looking Shi-Tzu. She'd been hit by a car , I only finished the job. My younger 'brother' watched as I dropped a six-pound brick onto the dog's head. Her blood splattered all over the freshly fallen and clean snow.

Jonathan, the little fucker, told the woman what I had done. She cried. Diane loved that awful looking dog, it was a disgrace to the world to keep it anyway.