Love Garden II
HER
3
I watch closely as he walks down each set of spiraling steps all the way out the door in the lobby before I retreat into my apartment and shut the door. As soon as it closes, my body leans against the nearest wall for support, while my mind begins to rewind the tape of my day back to about an hour ago, when the interview first began. I have flashbacks like this when I find myself in complicated situations that I feel need to be solved. When my memory calls me, it is insistent and vivid. It compels me to listen, and this feeling of releasing control to my thoughts used to bother me until I learned how to use it, and just how useful it is. I focus for a moment, and a faint picture of a small canine matted with mud and dried blood waiting in my doorway fades into view. I am not afraid. I know it does not want to hurt me, but in its eyes, I can see that it came for something. I follow the eyes to the kitchen, where a pile of raw meat sits on the countertop. When I turn back around, the dog has become a man. He walks in.