Life by the Page 1
1
Leon sat back in his chair as the ashes fell from his cigarette. He let them fall carelessly as they fell to the floor. He stared at the fire place as was his habit whenever Martha "left him". He was tired of Martha, tired of her pulling on his heart strings, tired of her little game of cat and mouse. He was no mouse. His fluffy black tail swayed back and forth as he thought. He was starting to feel he could do better.
Leon was a young wolf and very far on in his manor for someone his age. His fur was jet black as was the rest of his personality whenever he was angry. He stared with pale yellow eyes into the bright fire with something close to contempt in them. Above everything else he was tired, he was tired of the constant conflict and the petty passive-aggressive bouts he kept having with her. He threw his cigarette butt into the fire and rested his muzzle in his palm contemplating. It had crossed his mind before that he should break up with Martha but his mind had never been so seriously preoccupied with the idea for so long as it was now. Like anyone in this state of mind he was completely focused on the negatives. He thought of how she ignored him as he told her about new ideas he had. She would usually keep on talking about herself, or places she wanted to go, or how they never went to enough parties. Granted there were faults on both sides but he just wasn't sure. He sighed and rose from his chair. Leaving the living he walked down the hallway to his bedroom.
The next morning he woke a bit early. Sleep had done him some good and he was able to forget about Martha for a while. He rose from bed and threw on a dark brown wool sweater which he had bought last winter. He didn't feel like bathing today. After quickly brushing his teeth he grabbed his jacket and head out the door. Leon had been sequestered in his small house just outside of town for a few days now and he was dying for a change of scenery. He needed fresh air, change, and above all ideas. He liked going into town for few hours every once and a while. If Leon was anything more than a novelist he was his own best critic. He always felt as though he didn't socialize enough, as though he was a recluse that only cared about his work. This wasn't entirely true of course but these thoughts did hold merit. He had many friends but he didn't see them as often as he liked. Leon also had a few fans, though he was by no means a groundbreaking writer. Whenever he did happen to meet one he usually tried to avoid long conversation with them. For some reason he felt it did not count as socializing because it was usually about his work.
As he walked Leon admired the wonderful scenery around him. The trees were covered in snow and only a view bristles of the enduring evergreens poked through the white blanket which covered them. The sky was a white sheet of clouds that didn't let the sun shine through. This covered everything with a solemn dark shadow. The old road which ran past his house was covered by patches of snow and ice. The old fence which lined the right side of the road had old chipped paint which was once white but now was starting to turn a tarnished yellow as age warped the old wood. There was a nip in the wind that made him shiver as he walked. It was that kind of bite of cold that went through your jacket, then your sweater, and then your fur that made you want to turn your tail and head right back inside. Leon however was determined to get to town today and no mere cold was going to stop him. He flattened his ears as the cold bit his nose and he popped the collar of his jacket to protect his neck. He missed having a car.