The mouth was stretched wide, snaggleteeth bared, glassy eyes rolled back. Clumps of matted mane sprouted from patches of frayed skin.
“Milk? Sugar?” Amy asked. Mikey stood in the doorway, staring.
“Oh, you’ve met Leonard then.”
He didn’t expect such a timid woman to have a thing like that on her living room wall.
“Old family heirloom,” she explained.
Taxidermy aside, her flat was lovely, he thought. He could see himself quite comfy here if things worked out.
Later, as Amy mopped up Mikey’s blood and leftover bones, she muttered to the old lion, “Leonard, that was definitely the last time.”