A cold, driving rain, harder than when we left the house, greets us as we leave the grocery store, and Katie and I pull our hoodies down lower to cover our faces. My glasses fleck up with droplets that scatter the streetlights into sparks across my eyes.
I find myself thinking of having to walk the dog in weather like this: the reluctance of a smart, stubborn, slightly demented dog to get wet, the ages that she would take to pee while I stood, soggy and bored, waiting for her to figure out the exact spot on which she wanted to do her business.
It’s only been a little over a year, and still I’m amazed at how so little time has passed, and how far away she seems, and how I miss her.
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