Buddy suspected the slumbering Sadie wouldn’t appreciate playful whispers. But he often traveled the trail of wanton disobedience.

Quivering in anticipation, he cautiously nuzzled her velvety ear. It twitched violently, slapping her assailant across the face.

Let sleeping dogs lie, they silently agreed, flicking their tails and closing their eyes.

By day, Lawrence Frank sits in a psychotherapist’s chair, inhaling life’s darkest moments. In the silence of night, he locks the door, switches seats, and exhales to the page.