Tiger In My Room May 2026

I don’t know how it got in. My door was locked. The windows face a fifth-floor drop. But here it is, settled across my unmade bed, tail flicking lazily against the floorboards. My homework is under its left flank. I don’t care.

I’ll know it was real.

I should be terrified. Maybe I am, but distantly, like hearing thunder from inside a safe house. The tiger yawns. Its tongue curls, pink and rough as a cat’s, and I smell dry grass and warm fur. No blood. No threat. tiger in my room