I woke up screaming with no sound, his greasy hands that touched me in my dreams still linger on sensitive skin.
The School parking lot is full of children as clueless as me, the call comes in and my dog is dying. The phone falls into the passenger seat, I pull out to the highway.
As the children of the sun begin to wake, the speed limit increases and the windows stay down. Neil Young yells his poems and I yell my curses, roll punches at whoever’s listening because I don’t know who to blame besides myself.

It’s not just about the dog, mom.
My life only looks good depending on what angle you look at it.
Through the grained mist that makes up this Monday morning the sun shines through and heats up the sand. I let the waves meet my ankles, soaking the ends of my jeans.
Dropping my head, tears slap the shells. Nothing seems to be working and I miss my dog.
But I can’t watch him die.

And just like all things that die around me, I turn away and head to a beach somewhere. To sit in my underwear and bra beneath the shade of a palm tree and shake with sobs.