The Sleeping Morsel

Ben yawned and shut his laptop. It was now time for bed. I quickly slid back under the bed. He rolled and turned, springs squeaking with each shift as he tried to find a comfortable position. The tossing and turning became more sporadic with time and soon, he had drifted off. Quietly crawling on all sevens out from my predatory den, I rose to full height, head bent under the low ceiling. Standing over the sleeping morsel, his breathing was deep and gentle as he slumbered. I readied my hands above the dreamer, a toothless smile spread across each palm. I struck. One hand smothered his face another bound, both legs and