He talks too little and writes too much. I hate eating with him. We're strangers sitting across from each other, night after night. I decide to read an obit out loud. "Herbert Walker, 95, passed into the arms of the Lord on Tuesday. He is survived by his pitbull, One Eye, now available at the dog rescue. The dog is friendly, housebroken, and a fine companion." I look at my husband. "Let's get him," he says.
Available on Amazon There are infinitesimal moments, milliseconds actually, when a decision is made and life takes an unexpected turn. For Rosie, it came while driving on the thruway, passing a double trailer, when, seeing the slight curve of the road ahead, she imagined how twisting winds and shifting weights of masses in motion could possibly blow the truck over, crushing her soft flesh and brittle bones into a confounding mass of crumpled metal that could never be put right.