I stared out into the cool night of busy Paris streets while the air conditioning of the car soaked my dull face. The raidrops continued dropping, and the music continued playing. Suddenly a voice from the driver's seat says that she is dead. I remember last month, with that voice saying the same thing. I searched for the anchor, the humongous rock that should be sinking my heart, but there was none. I scavenged for the magical drops of liquid that should have been falling from my eyes, but there was only the cool air and dry cheeks.
I feel guilty.
This post is dedicated to two of my dogs who have died this year. Ella and Friday. My grandma took care of them when I was in fourth grade, but nevertheless, you are loved and missed. I don't care about silver or gold, bloodline, or where you were from. I love animals, especially dogs, and you are not forgotten. Rest In Peace, Ella and Friday.
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