It's currently 45° in Newark

*ring*

...

*ring*

-"Hullo?"

-"Mrs. Patterson?"

-"Speaking."

-"It's me. It's the cro-"

*click*

"Mrs. Patterson?"

"Mom?"

I knew you'd never pick up, you hate talking on the phone, specially to me. You say it's cause I mumble. I say it's cause you've got nothing to say. But then again, neither do I.

Why do I keep calling?

The bedtime stories are becoming real again. The crocodile won't stop smiling, his teeth are ever so big and his scales are ever so bright. Dr. Stanley isn't here to protect me and the crocodile won't stop smiling. He just won't.

Why do I keep calling?

Now he's moved, underneath the dresser. His eyes, two yellow orbs, just stare. And he won't stop smiling. I guess Dr. Stanley has gotten too old for this bedtime story. Crocodiles don't age, but I do. Does this mean I'm going to live with the crocodile forever? Will he ever stop smiling?

I know why I keep calling.

You know where Dr. Stanley is, don't you?

Why won't you tell me?

The crocodile won't stop smiling. Teeth, eyes, moon, sky - such a soothing lullaby.

I've fallen asleep now. Finally I'm safe - smiles don't exist in my dreams.

I remembered a poem I thought I had forgotten a long time ago - you used to tell it to me whenever I couldn't sleep:

Breath deep
The gathering gloom
Watch lights fade
From every room
Bedsitter people
Look back and lament
Another day's useless
energy spent

Impassioned lovers
Wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love
And has none
New mother picks up
And suckles her son
Senior citizens
Wish they were young

Cold hearted orb
That rules the night
Remove the colours
From our sight
Red is gray and
Yellow white
But we decide
Which is right
And
Which is an Illusion

The crocodile always leaves in the morning.

I smile.