Georg swung his feet over the side of his bed. His toes squelched in a day old peanut butter sandwich, but he just walked it off.
With crunchy peanut butter trailing behind him, he ambled over the sticky carpeted floor and into the kitchen.
He used last nights coffee filter to make black mud in his unwashed crazy cat lady mug.
“Today’s the day,” His voice scratched at the back of his throat as his knobby adam’s apple bobbed under the skin of his sparsely unshaven neck.
“I’m going to get him, Binxy.” He swore to his calico cat for the seventeenth day in a row.
He rustled papers on his mood board, which now mapped his obsession with photos and strings. He tugged at the yarn connections, linking faces to faces, all leading back to the one. The One.
“Adrian Dreyfus is dead. I mean it this time, Binxy.”
© Aubrey “Meeks” Brown 2015