Old Friends

I don't know what made me realize that I wasn't alone. It could have been any of a number of little things that didn't seem quite right; the patch of snow under the closed window, the crumbled bedclothes, or the distinct smell of wet dog. I stood motionless in the middle of my bedroom, surrounded by shadows of the innumerable books and newspapers I'd never have the time to go through. The intruder waited, and I could feel his eyes on me, like snowflakes melting on my skin.
"I've read your diary," said a familiar voice.
My heartbeat quickened the way it always did in his presence, but I think I managed to look quite casual. I even took two steps that got me to the window, and stared at the giant snowflakes that fluttered in the darkness. As the minutes crawled by, I wished I had been able to hum some old, sweet tune, anything to appear calm; but unfortunately I've never been that good an actress.
"Oh well," he drawled, sounding bored, "long time, no see."
I sensed that he had inched closer to me and that finally made me turn around. I saw his paws on the blue carpet, long, strong, and clawed. He was wearing his wolf suit again.
"Max," I said in a small voice, "did you really read my diary?"
He laughed silently at that, and his toothed smile narrowed his pale eyes that were still fixed on me. "So I did, so I did. And there wasn't on single thing about good old Max."

I fetched my Japanese kimono from the bed, and covered my somewhat flimsy nightgown with it, which made Max's smile grow wider and even more wolf-like.
"For me --? For the best friend of your childhood?" He tilted his dark head to an animal angle.
Max clearly hadn't changed much, but I hadn't really expected that, either. I could still see traces of the boy he had once been, certain winning eagerness and enthusiasm underneath his wolfish outlook. It was very hard to dislike him. Neverthless, I had to get him out of my apartment, and by doing that, out of my life.

"I don't have a diary," I said, leaning onto my desk for some moral support.
He didn't even blink. "Well, that raises another interesting question. What do you have to hide?"
"Max, please, let's not get into that now. I have nothing to hide, except from the likes of you. I wish you would go now. Your stupid costume smells worse than a wet dog, and you're dripping water on my carpet."
"Well, excuse me," replied Max happily, eyeing his paws. He looked immensely pleased with himself. "Do you happen to remember who gave me this stupid costume?"
"Max," I said, "it has certainly been a long while since we last met, and I was kind of hoping that I wouldn't have to lay my eyes on you ever again. How did you find me?"

Max stretched out his arms and made strange, rotating gestures with his paws. He looked like the worst troublemaker in a kindergarten group, wickedly clever and ready for mischief. As I watched him work his childish magic, the room seemed to darken. Something blue flickered in his eyes, and and I noticed that the small muscles around them vibrated ever so slightly.
"You remember, don't you?" he murmured, and for a fleeting moment, I wished I could have hugged him, eve if it was just to see his dark face light up.
"Of course you do," he continued, nodding to his own pleasat thoughts. "How could you forget? Just think of those dazzling days that never should have ended, and those nights when a secret garden grew in your bedroom! I could make all that happen again, you know." He snapped his paws for effect, and I thought I could hear invisible leaves rustle.