#*kodak

It’s been a long day with a bad dog. There is nothing to do with her legs that doesn’t ache and no arc of the arm that won’t flare up a bruise. She rubs circles in the floor dirt by her face, would be scratching, if she hadn’t bitten off the nails for it: the scene is self-pitying and it knows it. “Shut up.”

All the birds have flown away because they have good instincts, the boy hasn’t because he’s stupid like she and all humans are. It would have made more sense to tie the dog to a bird. She stands upright with both hands on her aching back like an old woman. “Why the face. They’re birds.” Her hands flutter in some animation of wings or maybe a spider. “They do that.”

"Why do you look so bad. All the time."