He was singing along to the tune that had filled the air moments ago, his deep voice reverberating through the space. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, scanned the room, searching for something, but he didn't seem to see you. You held your breath, hoping against hope that you could remain invisible. His paws, the size of dinner plates, thumped heavily on the floor, and you could feel the vibrations in your chest. Each step he took brought him closer, and your heart pounded in your ears like a drum.
His paw was now right before your face, a mountain of fur and power. You could see the individual strands, and the way they danced in the light as he flexed his toes. His nails, the length of your fingers, were a dull orange, slightly chipped and worn down—evidence of a life lived without caution. You tensed up, expecting the worst, but his gaze remained fixed on the bed, oblivious to your presence. The anticipation was unbearable, a tightrope stretching out before you, threatening to snap at any moment.
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