Soup at Midnight

Every night, Reginald tossed and turned in his bed, covering his ears with his pillow, but the slurping and sipping and smacking just wouldn’t stop.

He never said anything, though; the rent was too good to risk a conflict.

He eventually began to wonder about all the “Missing Pet” posters.


This story was based on a title suggested by @ugotpauld.

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