Maggie
Before Nina graduated, she dated a guy named Dillon. Dillon Yates. He lived just outside of downtown New Haven with his doe-eyed German Shepherd. It was a she. Her name was Maggie. She licked his face a lot and shit like clockwork in the rectangular backyard adorned with yellow grass. At night, she’d scramble foolishly up the stairs, her nails scratching up the already ancient flooring. Dillon had informed Nina that she was still young, just two years old. On her birthday, he put a party hat on her inquisitive, long face and drank a beer in bed.