Dog

Previously

…Clear. Almost. Almost clear. Close enough to rest. So I rested. Against the warm wall, in the thinning maze, under a green sky that existed at the far end of patience. Not finished. Not saved. Not fixed. But held — by myself, by the dog inside me, by the mother who named a star and trusted me to find it, by the strange architecture of a mind that had spent years building walls and was now, slowly, making them transparent. The green light deepened. I breathed. Sirijus breathed with me, or I breathed with Sirijus, and the distinction no longer mattered.