Lucy sat scratching her leg with an old hairbrush, collecting the dead skin cells in a neat pile. She was planning on feeding them to Stewart, the cat. She hated Stewart the cat.

​

She paused and listened out, convinced she heard him walking across the landing. He never slept when she was awake and she had learnt to do the same. 

 

Their relationship had soured three weeks previous; Lucy had become sick of his constant f*cking rejection. She would bend down, twiddle her fingers and call him over but he would simply turn away. He wasn’t courteous enough to walk off, but instead simply and slowly turned his head...away...from...hers.  

 

That same day Lucy sneezed into her hands and wiped the snot across his back. She doesn’t know why she did it, but she told him it doesn’t matter considering he licks his own arse. Arse Licker, she called him.

                                          

Arse Licker, sorry, Stewart equally despised her. He knew her weak spots, such as her computer skills. Being brought up on a PC, Lucy was scared of Macs and Stewart knew this so once he stood on his hind legs and chased her down the stairs with a MacBook Pro.

 

Lucy repaid him by kicking him in the face.

​

The end.