She wept. I wept. Dog barked.
Empty bowl: a dog barks somewhere.
When our dog flew out of the window on gossamer wings, I dropped my spoon in my breakfast. He didn't even bark a goodbye. I shot outside and stared as he showed off by doing several somersaults amongst the rain clouds. Mongrels! You never knew what they were crossed with.
￼ When the screen shattered, three months of torturous work splintering into hundreds of tiny pieces, she looked my way and glared. "I'm sorry, love," I said. "He'd evolved," she growled. "Sorry." "Doesn't matter." "Oh!" "He was the wrong colour, anyway." "How about I get you a real one?" "Will he break?" "One day, perhaps." […]
“Even took my dog: Shih Tzu!”
In Winter Stills There is a path off a road off a hillside off a dream, a path where all the silent ones go to sleep. I followed it once without care for myself. This is where it led. The snow fell in relentless cascades obliterating my footprints so I might’ve stepped through a thickening […]