/u/PistachioPug's posts
On my way home tonight, I passed an old billboard advertising a festival I attended two months ago at the beginning of spring.
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I want him to have what I can't give him: endless fields to run in, tail a blur and ridiculous ears flapping in the wind; balls to chase; grasshoppers to catch.
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Let the sun set, let the sun set at the height of your holy day, let it burn out like a fire, let it draw the cloak of night over nature's perfect profusion.
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Was it fear that made her put down the razor and bandage her wrist, or was there some tiny animalcule of hope still alive within her, or was it just that, for a moment, the physical pain was greater than the other one?
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