Puppy Dog Eyes

Accepting Bagels

He came back from his errands.

The room was filled with the smell of freshly baked bagels.

"I brought you some breakfast," L said. I didn't know what his full name was, but from the note he left, I figured it started with an L.

"The only breakfast I'm having is at my home. My real home!" I yelled straight in his face.

For a few seconds, he laughed to himself.

Over and over again, until he began to choking.

But once he stopped, he claimed, "Well you better get used to having breakfast here with me because it's gonna stay like that."

"You living asshole," I screamed, "you don't even know my name."

"Harry," he smiled, "I have your phone, wallet, etcera."

I hated him. Not because he took me, ripped my identity, or laughed in my face. I hated him because he filled hatred in my heart. Hatred I have never had in my existential void.

I began to sob, and fell down to the floor.

"Don't cry," L tried to comfort.

I ripped him off of me.

"Don't comfort me when you're the reason for my sadness."

It was going to be a long night.

And unfortunately, many other ones.