Day 202: Trade

Emma, sweet girl. She was the little white angel I came to expect every Friday. She was ever quiet and observant, usually relaxing in the spot she always claimed by the wall, watching other dogs play their crazy games. When I walked over to her, she wouldn’t get up, just follow me with diamond eyes and a small smile, her tail wagging when I pet her.

Across hours of daycare we would share secret glances, her black eyes glinting at me. “Dogs, huh?” she seemed to say, as though we were both humans. But I was sure that couldn’t be true: it seemed more like we slowly traded roles.

Day 172: Lawn

He had eyes the color of a murky winter puddle, slushy with brown ice, and his hair was both the color and texture of someone’s dead lawn.

Day 145: Long-Term

I dropped into the chair across from my friend and rubbed my eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

I smiled uncertainly. “No, I’m fine. Short-term, anyway. It’s the long-term that I’m worried about.”

She let out a huff that was only laughter because my statement was so relatable. “Aren’t we all,” she sighed.

Day 94: Untouched

As soon as I got home, I ran to the shower, still bawling my eyes out. Tap water joined the stream of tears, spit, and snot running down my face, but while my skin was washed clean, my aching heart stayed untouched.

Day 64: Eyes

I could see it in her face: her brain knew it. Her heart didn’t. Her mouth, her tongue, her expression, they all knew. But not her eyes. Her eyes, the window to her soul, her heart, were oblivious to the devastation.