it could be the end of the world. a cataclysm or catastrophe churns and the city could be a smokestack. with all the silence of a vacation cottage when it’s not vacation. even the people on the radio are gone. you enter the apartment and find one (1) four-legged entity. breathing slowly and wounded in the shower stall. she came in here looking for food but she didn’t eat any because she’s gonna die. she came in here to find a place to die. she chose your apartment. in the shadows, you wonder how (dogs? coyotes?) would get this far into the city streets at a time like this? a time like when? who did this to her? the clock is ticking, or was it the cross nailed to the wall staring you down? her ragged breathing disappears as if you calmed her down or let go of two smooth quartz stones and let them sink in cold water. you wake up.