And for a while, that was enough.
There were good days, too—the kind that sneak up on you and make you believe, just for a moment, that you’ve outrun the inevitable. One morning, I found him sitting by the front door, watching the street with a kind of alertness I hadn’t seen in weeks, his eyes brighter, his posture stronger.
I stood there with my coffee in hand and laughed, a short, disbelieving sound that turned into something closer to relief.
“Thought you were done with me,” I said.
His tail hit the floor in that slow, familiar rhythm.
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