She’s let the dog out, has forgotten once that he’s still in the yard, it’s a faint pressure on her mind, he’s fine out there, no real danger, but of course he could twist a leg in a gopher hole or eat something that poisons him or slip out through a gap in the gate and be hit by a car, no, this is just distraction for her, a way of keeping herself from thinking about Emma, and the way she left, head down, shoulders deflated too, slow into the car, slow backing the car out of the drive, she had the upper hand in the argument though it didn’t seem like it, and there would be the call later tonight from her ex-husband, always helpless when she turned up on his doorstep, always filled with a little too much hope, and then the next day Emma would thank Leo for his hospitality, peck on the cheek, poor stunned man, and she would drive back home and tell Alana that they were wrong to have fought and that love demanded more effort, and Alana would nod, and they would eat breakfast or lunch, depending on what time she drove back home, and look into each others’ eyes, performing love, protecting stockpiles, preparing for the next argument while still playing through this one, a contest of voids.
©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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