Late last night, multitasking on the sofa. Bifocals on for watching TV, working, playing on the computer. Listening and hearing an intrusion of sound: soft squeal of braking tires on wet pavement, soft deadly thump. The car leaves before I get to the window.
No unmoving mound of something on the road, no limping or crying away. Across the street there is a dog who runs loose who never goes across the street. The cats are all gone to coyotes. I’m hoping it wasn’t a deer.
Shamefully wishful it might have been the skunk who lives under my barn. But the morning is fragrant with lilacs instead–funereal still, and something still sleeps unharmed.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology