“Are ya sure he won’t be home?” Billy whispered.
“I’m sure,” Jess answered. “Every Friday morning he tells me how he stayed out late playing poker the night before. The guy tells me everything that goes on in his life. He keeps some cash in a coffee can in the cupboard above the sink for emergencies. Now get in here and shut the door, will ya?”
As they stood in the kitchen, a three-quarter moon shining through the window being the only light, a low growl came from the shadowed living room.
“Did he tell ya ’bout the frickin’ dog, Jess?”
Word Count: 101
Writer: Roy Dorman