Her

They were once-in-a-lifetime best friends. Never apart, those too- at least not when they could help it. They grew up together- he through puppy-hood, her through teenage-hood. He was the one she came home to after school every day, the one she talked to when she fought with her friends, the one she cried with on prom night when she was left alone and dateless. He made her laugh, and that made him so happy. She raised him and taught him and took care of him, and in return he loved her. It was a love she desperately needed. It was deep and knowing, unlike her mother’s, and he was always there, unlike her father. When they were driving together, running errands or heading up north or flying down back roads just for some peace and quiet, she would glance at him in the passenger seat and think how lucky she was to have found such a beautiful soul. It was a partnership meant for movie screens. She knew she could do just about anything with him at her side. I love the irony of it all- him being the only positive beam of light in her fucked up world, just to be taken out of it by two glaring headlights. I wonder if he felt it, the pain of death. I wonder if she wonders. I’ll never forget the sound of her heart breaking when she found he was dead. Like thunder, but much, much, worse. Don’t think I've ever seen so much hopelessness in a person. It punched her in the stomach. It beat the s**t out of her, to be honest. When she lowered him into the frozen ground, I knew how badly she wanted to crawl in after him, surround herself with him, curl around his body just like the way they used to sleep, touch his paws and kiss his nose and feel his reassuring breath. Hell, I couldn't even look at him. He looked so cold and so tired and sad, like he was sleeping his way through a nightmare. He had never looked like that in life, because he had always been with her. It was impossible for them to be sad together. But now they were both sad, him at the bottom of the hole, and her at the top. Too sad for words, too sad for tears. I’ll never forget the sweetness with which she laid by his head a handful of dog treats, and his silver dog tag. “I want him to have his name, wherever he’s going” she said. I wanted to ask her if she would be okay, but I was too afraid of the answer. And so I watched, and eventually helped, as she painstakingly covered him with dirt, crushing him. If he really was just sleeping, I thought, he was gone now. Suffocated by the earth. I worried every night after that, about how cold he must be. Cold and alone. He never liked being cold, and he couldn't stand being alone. Neither could she. Funny how these things happen, isn't it? Just that one second, that flash of headlights, and two lives ruined. Just like that. Funny, isn't it?