Sarah Dunphy
Engl 396
Reader Sketch

	In a cold, cold Iowan winter in 2011, bundled up in her robe and a fleece blanket to counteract the ridiculous price of that month's gas bill, Sarah Dunphy sat at her desk glaring threateningly at her computer screen. Her word processor was open. The pure white image on the screen made her face look like a floating blue-white halo in her dark room.
	“Dammit,” she growled. “How the heck am I supposed to know how reading affected me growing up, let alone make it interesting to read?” She turned to look over her shoulder at the mysterious lump under her bed's blankets. “Lucky dog. Gets to sleep.” She sighed at went back to staring blankly at the equally blank page on her monitor. Sarah pursed her lips and glanced at the time in the lower corner of the screen. Her face blanched.
	She groaned, putting her head in her hands, and ruffled her hair absentmindedly. “This is useless. I may as well just go to bed.” She stood up and poked the lump of blankets on the bed. “C'mon, Zeus, potty time.” The blankets on her bed quickly became a large knot on her mattress. Her excited dachshund stood, tail thrashing back and forth, looking, as Sarah felt, way too enthusiastic to go outside in the sub-zero temperatures to tinkle.
	Sarah sighed and shuffled down the hall in her slippers. She could hear her dog's nails clicking in the dark on the linoleum behind her. “C'mon, you weird-OHH!” She felt her heel slip on the edge of the stair and she plunged into the darkness below.
	The next thing Sarah felt was herself lying spreadeagled on the ground. Most likely the bottom of the stairs, she conjectured. She heard nails clicking on the floor as they walked to her. Sarah sighed and readied herself to be greeted with Zeus's usual wake up method: his snuffling wet nose pressing on her eyelids.
	“Human,” purred a voice in her ear, “wake up, dear.”
	“Uh, what?” she groaned as she opened her eyes. She blinked blankly a few times at the face floating above hers. She yelped in surprise.
	“Hmm?” the sphinx chuckled. She licked her golden paws. “Don't knock yourself out again. It'll be annoying waking you up a second time.”
	“I really gotta stop reading those fantasy books before...falling down the stairs—uh, right,” Sarah pushed herself off the ground, feeling the lump on the back of her head. “Right. This is just some sort of weird dream. I must've really knocked myself hard.”
	“I'd say,” smiled the sphinx. “It took me ten whole minutes just to get you up and speaking non-sense!”
	“So how long 'till I wake up and take my dog out before he pees all over the place?” Sarah sighed.
	“Long enough, I assure you, if you keep chittering like this,” the sphinx's feminine face lost none of its odd beauty even as she furrowed her neat brows in annoyance.