SPECULATIVE FICTION
The Devil and the Doberman
At the café of despair
When I saw him coming, I muttered, “Oh no. It’s that man in the black turtleneck sweater again.”
She smiled as if to say there was no concern.
He was walking his Doberman Pinscher along State Street when he spotted us at an outdoor café. My first instinct was to run as far as possible in the opposite direction, but I didn’t want to leave Shara alone. I knew with no uncertainty that the man dressed in all black was a malicious spirit. But Shara was naive. She didn’t believe such possessed beings could exist, let alone walk the earth without a name.
“He’s just a misguided soul who needs to be loved and respected,” she told me.
“But he doesn’t tell you his name?”
“He has a right to remain incognito if he chooses.”
I loved Shara and wanted to marry her, but sometimes she was too kind for her own good. She often took in strays and wayward types into her home. She believed everyone needs a friend, no matter how damaged or deranged they seem.
“People need love so they can flourish,” Shara said whenever she crossed paths with someone suspicious or down-and-out.
