At 7:03 Marty began his nightly routine with a flavorful chicken supper. His dinner was always portioned appropriately for his appetite. Marty finished his meal at 7:09, as he did every night. After dinner, he used the restroom. After that, a bath. Marty’s routine was rehearsed and strict. He even bathed with strategy.
Once clean, Marty sat himself in his Marty-sized depression on the large white couch, as he had every night. Everything in Natalie’s apartment was like that: large, easily-assembled, white or close to it, and clean. Marty liked things clean. It stayed clean because Natalie and Marty both maintained cleanliness to the best of their abilities.
It helped that Natalie didn’t leave the apartment often. In the spacious one bedroom with few walls and several large windows providing a scene of the outside world, Natalie sat at a table during the day with a screen or two in front of her. When she did leave, which was not often, Marty didn’t mind. As long as she was home by supper time. She always was.
Natalie opened a brightly packaged beverage and squeezed herself in next to Marty. Marty repositioned himself to ensure maximum comfort. Though he detested this tedious step, it was part of the routine. Supper at 7:03, meal finished by 7:09, restroom, bath, large white couch, Natalie on the large white couch, Marty adjusting to Natalie by his side. Can of beverage. Marty knew, Natalie knew.
They sat in front of the screen tonight. Sometimes Natalie read a book, but tonight she chose to watch the screen. Marty allowed her these small freedoms.
Mostly, Natalie spent her time with Marty. Marty preferred this. As long as they maintained the routine, Marty was pleased. Sometimes, Natalie would invite other people over. Marty enjoyed Natalie’s companions, despite their volume, and was always social with them for approximately 17 minutes before retreating to their clean and quiet bedroom to wait for the next step in the routine. Natalie made sure not to miss its commencement at 7:03, even if she had visitors.
After 91 minutes of watching the screen, Natalie continued her portion of the routine in the bathroom. Marty always kept her company, sitting on the cold white toilet lid to watch her smooth various white substances of various consistencies on her face, only to splash them away with water. When the water came, Marty left the bathroom and readied himself on the left side of their bed.
Natalie and Marty had practiced this routine for 3 years now. Marty was pleased with Natalie’s attention to detail. Natalie was a warm and generous companion to him, and Marty enjoyed her company. It was nice to sleep next to someone.
Natalie was strict about bedtime. Natalie registered Marty’s ideal bedtime as somewhere between 9:47 and 10:31. The earlier the better.
Marty had a very important part of his routine that was necessary but never unplanned. He would awake at 4:34, just over 6 hours after Natalie drifted to sleep. Marty was a heavy sleeper, and this recurring wake-up time always left Marty wasting away with hunger. To alert Natalie of his desperation, he would touch his nose gently to Natalie’s cheek. She would bat her eyes open, two large dark spots on her face meeting Marty’s giant brown eyes. By 4:48, Natalie would slide her hand to the white surface next to the bed, feel around for her screen, light it awake and press her finger to it, initiating a release of food for Marty in the kitchen. Natalie never shut the door, so Marty could quickly make his way to his meal before starving in the very bed they lay.
On this night, Natalie, freshly watered and adorned in soft white clothing, scooted into bed and spoke quietly to Marty as she smoothed his hair. This was Marty’s favorite part. He would lose track of time with his eyes closed, never glancing at the numbers glowing neon on the screen across the room. Natalie’s warmness, paired with the soft hum from his own chest, lulled him gently to sleep. On this night, Marty approached sleep’s doorstep until the light was switched off at 10:27. He hardly minded that this was on the later side of his bedtime window. Marty crossed the threshold of dreams within minutes.
…
Marty awoke after hours of slumber. Marty stretched deeply and checked the numbers on the screen. 3:01. This was unusual. Marty had never seen those numbers without daylight streaming through the windows. He blinked, and addressed the room. Natalie’s various items were placed in their normal spots, the windows were covered, the room was dark. Marty was cold. This was unusual, as Natalie provided a great deal of warmth in their bed. Marty stretched his back legs once more with a small tremble, exposing the soft hair between his toes. He yawned and turned his body to face Natalie but she was gone.
Marty was never loud. He was never compelled to make much noise, he communicated with Natalie through routine. Occasionally, Marty would call Natalie from another room, waiting for a response to locate her to negotiate more hair petting. Marty walked to her vacant side of the bed and felt a faded warmth beneath his tender feet. He called to her. No response.
Marty leapt down from his perch in pursuit of Natalie. He passed through the open bedroom door into the white and windowed living space to find Natalie lying facedown on the floor of the fluffy rug. The rug had not kept its original eggshell color, as a dark liquid had gathered beneath Natalie’s head. Marty approached her with curiosity.
Natalie’s eyes were open, but she was still. Marty, confused, attempted his gentle nose touch routine, stepping in the liquid to try to reach her face. He retreated on a spring, bouncing away from her and the liquid and shaking his foot to rid himself of the substance. He looked down at his small white foot. Thick and muddled with the same color from the rug. He attempted to clean himself with a few licks. He was met with a rich flavor not dissimilar to the previous evening’s meal. Marty’s stomach ached, and he was determined to acquire his second meal. He rounded her head. There was no vantage point around her head that was not moated by the murky substance.
Marty sat feet away studying her. It was unlike Natalie to lay on the floor. It was unlike Natalie to be anywhere but on the right side of their bed at this time. Marty could be patient. So jumped upon the couch, unable to avoid a dark footprint on the large white couch, and situated himself from his makeshift observation tower. Within minutes, Marty had fallen asleep again.
Marty awoke once more to gentle buzzing and chiming noises from the bedroom. This happened every morning when the sun rose through the tall windows. He turned his attention to Natalie after a stretch and a yawn. She had not moved. Daylight cast streaks of sun on her upturned back. The moat of dark liquid had stretched to the far end of the rug, and had seeped down under Natalie’s waist. Her white clothing blended into the rug, and the substance was a shared meeting point between her form and the floor. Marty watched her, waited for her to get up and stop the buzzing in the bedroom. She did not move.
Marty left his post on the large white couch and rounded Natalie’s legs to her face. Her eyes were still open, but she did not look awake. The left side of her face where she met the floor had turned dark. It nearly matched the liquid surrounding her. He noticed now that her mouth was open. Marty was confused, and was growing impatient. Their morning routine could not begin unless Natalie silenced the buzzing by the time the screen showed 6:37. Marty circled back to her legs, careful to avoid the dark liquid pool she lay in. He climbed the length of her body, reaching her back warmed by the sun and sat. Marty observed her from this angle. He reached out and touched her black hair. A desperate measure — he had never failed with his nose touch method. His nails caught in her matted hair, and he tugged away. Marty made several attempts to garner her attention this way, snatching stray strands of hair and hoping that the pull of her hair would jostle her. When Marty found this strategy unsuccessful, he called out to Natalie. He knew she would be able to hear him, as he was only inches away from her ear. He called and called. Minutes passed of his calling, and still she did not inch.
Growing irritable, Marty leapt from her back over the dark liquid toward the bedroom. Marty was hungry, and the loud buzzing had continued on for a very long time. Marty was sure that Natalie would not miss their morning routine. She never did this. Marty went to check the screen in the bedroom. 7:07. Marty stood in shock. Every time the clock had said 7:03, Marty had been fed. Breakfast and supper. Three years, without fail.
The buzzing continued from the white elevated surface where Natalie’s screen lay next to the bed. The sounds from the screen hurt Marty’s ears. He involuntarily yowled, startling himself with the noise. He departed from the bedroom back to Natalie. He rounded the right side of her motionless form to face her. Eyes still open. Again he called to her. Natalie did not move.
Never in their time together had Natalie missed Marty’s meal. Marty felt weak with hunger. He had gone without two feedings. When would she wake? The pain in his stomach had reached the maximum level he could tolerate.
Marty was now angry. He approached Natalie’s upturned leg, and performed an unthinkable act of violence. He wasn’t a malicious creature, but his routine had been disrupted. He lunged at Natalie’s lower leg, nails and teeth exposed in attack. Marty’s canines latched onto the meat of Natalie’s calf, piercing the rounded muscle. Natalie did not move. She did not respond in pain. No dark liquid formed at the injury. She was still. Marty eased backwards from her leg. He wiped his mouth with the backside of his forearm. Marty’s tongue swiped the corners of his open mouth clean and encountered the taste from before. It was not unlike last night’s supper. He rounded his mouth again with his bristled tongue, smoothing the hairs above his lips and catching more hints of the meaty flavor. He crept slowly toward where he’d made his mark. This time he bit with intention, and a slab of Natalie’s skin detached and fell onto the fluffy formerly-white rug.
After some time, Marty approached Natalie’s leg again. He commenced his morning routine behind schedule at 8:02.
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