Wolves

When I was Little Red Ridinghood I feared the wolves. Then the wolf took me in, and stripped of my crimson robes I felt a strange comfort. Naked in the forest I knew I would never again be trapped by the trappings of modern man. Never would I work in climate controlled, empty, square boxes; smooth walls the antithesis of nature, their cool faces fighting it. The wolves, curled as they were in their tiny den, looked so comfortable, and when I laid down with them I soon felt the warm feelings of sleep. I woke to myself being devoured.