Shall We Have a Moral To The Story: The Cool Morning Air



The little toad hadn’t gotten far but nestled itself in the base of a tree just outside her patio. He sat there staring ahead trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened then glancing down noticed his skin had become the same shade as the tree. “Compassion or a side effect? Would she change me back? How do you ask about that when all you can do is croak? Why did I break-in in the first place? Do frogs sleep? Is that what I am?” The sound he let out was weak as the sunset settled into darkness like a blanket over his world. His eyes closed.


The morning was peaceful and comfortably cool. She stepped onto the patio coffee in hand to drink in the silence raising the cup just enough to inhale freshly ground steamy goodness. The aroma snaked around him and stirred him. Startled he opened his eyes not in bed but on the ground, saw her standing and was overcome by thoughts of a large mug full along with a bacon, egg and cheese on ciabatta. “I’m hungry.” His tongue shot out snatching a roly-poly from under a leaf. Down his gullet it went. “That was gross… satisfying… will I always be a frog that thinks… and can smell?” And on that note he recalled reading somewhere the roly-poly was not an insect but an animal and wondered if it qualified as meat or wasn’t it a crustacean, then seafood? Helplessness, the hopelessness of his situation, his limitations all overwhelmed him. A fly with a man’s head caught in a spider web flashed in his mind causing a shudder severe enough he jumped from hiding into the open. She looked down.



He woke on his back stark naked by the tree next to her patio. He sprung up in a sitting position wildly looking around. Next to him was a bath towel. If the police found him he could come up a reason or two as to why he was wearing only a towel running down the sidewalk, maybe humorous enough the police’d help him get home.



As he sprung from behind the tree toward pavement he heard her sliding glass doors click shut.


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