Dr.

My phone rings as I sit in front of the living room bay window.

My eyes are locked under the dark form that waits by the bus stop across the street.

Dude, you ever going to answer your phone?

A roommate asks with a laugh.

A unknown caller, I say.

Those are the only calls you get, man, he says, as he grabs his keys and gives them a shake.

I'm out. Don't wait up. In fact, can you maybe not be here when I get back?

Have fun on your date, I say as I ignore his request.

Have fun staring at imaginary dogs and ignoring your phone!

He shouts as he leaves.

I sigh heavily.

Tim's a jerk, and he's only still living here because I need help with the rent.

And he has every current video game console available.

I think about playing one of those consoles, but that's not in the carts tonight.

Tonight I watch the black dog, stare up at my apartment as it perpetually sits by the bus stop.

After a few seconds, I see Tim as he walks past the bus stop on his way

to his car. The dog doesn't even acknowledge my jerk of a roommate. Those pitch black eyes continued to stare only in my direction.

Tim's car is half a block down and he hops in, starts up his car, turns up the music to a volume sure to piss our neighbors off,

and drives past the bus stop on his way by the apartment.

The Black Dog is gone when Tim's car passes.

But I'm not surprised by this. Dog is gone when Tim's car passes.

...