Page 3 of Feelin' Pine

“Fuck.” I launch up from the table and pace around the table in a circle while Kraine, my German Shepard, yawns and harrumphs at me for disturbing his beauty sleep.

Glaring at him, I say, “I will not.”

Kraine tips his head and lays those soulful honey eyes on me, holding a massive dose of judgment.

“The swear jar is for at home. I’m here to be me and free. I can curse as much as I want. Plus, they’ve proven that swearing is a sign of intelligence, so I’m probably brilliant genius level.”

My dog opens his mouth, licks his chops as he rolls over, and puts his back to me after I swear I catch him rolling his eyes again. German Shepherds are drama queens, and Kraine takes it to top queen level.

“Listen here, mister. I’m allowed to say fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! Fuck!” I sing out at the top of my lungs with the worst singing voice. I seriously can’t carry a tune if my life depended on it.

Kraine growls while he stretches his legs out in front of him.

“Hey, you’re not allowed…”

Like a ball shot out of a cannon, Kraine shoots to the front door and gives several guttural barks forcing my knees to shake and the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

Easing myself into the middle of the room and scooting closer to the front door, I find my calmest voice and say, “Hey, buddy, there’s nothing out there. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Another gut-punching growl and a bark escape from his mouth, making all the hair on my arms reach for the stars. My hands begin to shake as the memory of the only time Kraine has ever barked like that was once before when my ex was trying to break into my house. He was a real threat then, but he can’t be a real threat now.

Daniel wouldn’t be out here… right?

I mean, he’s not a great guy. I fully admit he’s in the mistake column of life. But he wouldn’t follow me two hundred miles to the middle of nowhere…

I don’t think so.

Softening my footsteps, I creep over to the front door, sliding around, imagining I’m a ninja, and slowly peeking through the blinds on a window next to the door, barely lowering one of the slats, a tiny smidgen and hoping nobody catches the slight movement. My gaze jumps around the surrounding forest but I don’t see anything unusual. It doesn’t stop Kraine from going crazy. He’s sensing something out there I’m not catching onto.

Whispering, “Kraine, hey, listen to me. I need you to stop barking, buddy. There’s no one out there.”

Slowly tapping my foot and letting my eyes roam over every inch of land within sight.

I’m not so sure I believe myself.

Scanning the property in a grid pattern, I freeze when I catch a shadow far off in the woods. It’s in the denser trees, so it’s darker and mottled, but it looks upright and big and scary.

Dropping my hand and leaning my back against the door, I hiss at the clacking back and forth movement of the window coverings. I tried not to disturb them, but I gave my position away.

Not a great Ninja at all.

Wringing my hands, I pace as my breathing increases to a faster tempo, accelerating my heart rate to match. The black dots pop around my vision, sweat beads atop my forehead as a panic attack fast approaches. Reaching out to hold onto anything sturdy enough to keep me standing, I struggle with rooting myself in my place.

Shit! My job as an accountant never gives me a panic attack, but going on a vacation induces one in seconds.

This is not helping, Maitlyn. Cool your shit, focus on slow breaths, and calm yourself. ROYGBIV. ROYGBIV.

Take a deep inhale in and a slow exhale out. “Look for something red.”

Back at the dining table, smack dab in the middle, is a bowl of red apples.

“Red. Now look for something orange.”

Deep inhale, slow exhale. A bold southwest pattern throw is on the back of the couch, with oranges streaking throughout the material.

“Orange. Okay, good, now yellow.”

The sweater I like to curl up in at night is lying across the chair, shining bright like a beacon.

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