Too Sad, Don’t Read

Dust hung in the stagnant air surrounding a snow white pup. The engine rumble faded down the forest-lined road. It finally died around the corner, muffled by a thick copse of pine. Sitting with ears pinned back, her wet eyes kept vigil.

More engines passed, each a different shade. Each was swallowed by the distance. Sun sank. Stars rose. Wet summer heat clings. A howl, hollow as loss, sang to the moon.

Still loyal, the pup sat.