Eight

1279 Words
“In other news, the local wildlife conservation has reported a strange new trend,” the television droned from the living room as I dumped my breakfast plate in the sink. Recently, I had been watching the news in the mornings for any updates on the missing girls, or any more disappearances. However, the reports had gotten quite a bit more interesting than they used to be in this small town. I smiled to myself as I thought about it and imagined how Jess would no doubt turn it into a drinking game. I could hear her laugh in my mind while she pushed me to drink every time she deemed a new story to be the craziest.     “Yes, we have responded to several calls in regard to wild foxes in the area,” a dark-skinned woman was saying to one of the channel’s up and coming reporters while she fidgeted with a ring on her right hand. “Foxes, huh?” I asked the screen as I settled back into my favorite oversized chair. I only really sat on the couch if someone else was here, but it had been a couple of days now, since I got to enjoy the comfort curling up into this chair brought me.     “Actually, the calls themselves aren’t really the strange part,” the woman was explaining. “I mean, it would be unusual to find multiple foxes in this area, especially considering the reports have almost all mentioned a white fox. However, not a single fox has been caught, or even seen by a member of wildlife officials.” She responded to the young reporter’s question, curiosity shining in her own eyes. She was clearly intrigued by the small-town fox mystery.     The young reporter continued to pepper the woman with questions, and she explained how white foxes were in fact arctic foxes and native to much cooler climates than Dahlia Lake. However, she conceded, it wouldn’t be impossible for someone to bring an arctic fox to the area, unadvisable as it may be. In fact, The Wildlife Commission was more interested in the apparent lack of foxes despite the large volume of reports. It appeared they were considering the possibility that they were dealing with some kind of widespread prank, rather than calls from concerned citizens. She warned that participants in such a prank could and would be charged with a misdemeanor upon discovery.     I was wondering what the purpose of such a prank would be when a sharp knock sounded at the door and pulled me from my thoughts. After a quick peak through the small hole in the door, I released the locks and pulled the door open for Troy.     “Hello, Beautiful,” he crooned with an exaggerated smile. “You miss me?”     “I wouldn’t have lasted another second,” I purred, feigning a swoon and clearing the way for him to come inside.     Chuckling he brushed past me and headed for the couch. He had a single strap book bag slung across his shoulders, which thumped to the floor as he dropped onto the couch.     “You see this?” He asked. Gesturing toward the tv.     “About the foxes?”     “No, look. The guy that owns that jewelry store down on Main Street is saying one of his employees lifted a diamond ring.”     “That doesn’t seem very smart,” I said as I dropped down beside him to watch.     “That’s not even the weird bit,” he said. “Apparently, she claimed that she sold the ring to some guy she had never seen before. He paid cash, so she didn’t take ID or even get his name.”     “So, where’s the cash then?”  I asked.     “That’s where it gets crazy,” he leaned forward with a smirk. “She says the money disappeared after the guy left. Just poof,” he flicked his fingers out in front of him, illustrating the ‘poof,’ “all the money turned into leaves.”     “Leaves? She’s saying the money turned into leaves?” I asked. He wasn’t wrong. That was crazy.     The news program ended after it wrapped up that bizarre story, and I turned it off before gesturing to Troy’s bag. “Did you have a class this morning?”     “Yes, but I also wanted to show you this,” he replied as he pulled a thick green tome out of the back. The cover held a painted image of a young woman walking between two white foxes with several tails each and a blooming cherry tree behind them.     “It’s beautiful,” I told him as he placed the book in my hands. “Where did you ever find it?”      “There’s a small used book-store near my apartment. I’ve been stopping by in there for as long as I can remember. It was my mom’s favorite place to buy books,” he explained. “Anyway, I asked her if she had anything on Japanese mythology, and she showed me this.” He paused for a moment, biting his lip before he went on, “Weirdly, she said that it was donated to the shop recently, but she hadn’t put it on the shelf. I figured, it was meant for you.” He flashed a small smile and shrugged like it was no big deal.     Throwing my arms around his neck, I whispered, “thank you,” and lifted my face to place a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head toward me to respond at the same moment and the kiss I intended for his cheek landed at the corner of his mouth. Before I could pull back and flush red at the misfire, he responded. Immediately and Intensely. His torso twisted and his hands settled on my waist. His tongue swept across my bottom lip, asking for entry and I obliged. He may have responded roughly, but the kiss was gentle and sweet. The heat from his hands on my waist, the only other place our bodies were touching, was spreading over my skin and pooling between my thighs. I buried my hands in his hair and his thumb shifted and slipped under the hem of my shirt, eliciting a soft moan to escape my throat.     The small noise seemed to bring Troy back to his senses, and he broke the kiss. “I haven’t even taken you to dinner,” he chuckled and pressed his lips back to mine for one too brief heartbeat before he pulled away from me.     Sighing, I brought my own attention back to the book and traced the lines of the delicate painting. The kitsunes in the picture gazed at the woman adoringly, it’s bushy tails splayed behind it. As I studied the image, I wondered what I would look like in the form of a fox and how many tails my mom had. “My mom!” I exclaimed as I lurched from the sofa. “What time is it?”     “It’s one fifteen,” he told me. “Don’t worry, we have time to get there.”     “Okay,” I nodded and pulled the mini backpack that I used as a purse over my shoulder. The paws flicked up to cover the cat’s eyes as I jostled the magnetic bits.     “Come on,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ll drive. You can read to me from the book of your kin. Maybe you'll find a story about your great grandmother and her kits."     Laughing, I shoved at his shoulder as he held the door for me.
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