Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Waiting room

I take the top off his carrier. He doesn't want to come out, sits defiant and pissed off and for that I am grateful. I know every bolt that keeps this carrier together, have memorized how it feels to unscrew them. I've done it enough. I've done it too much. They will come in soon. We wait together. "I'm sorry," I say. I don't know if I'm telling him or myself.

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