When I was done, Rick slipped to the ground and pulled the Underoos over his face. I watched his breath make the little Superman rise and fall, and sat next to him on the grass. I ran my fingers over the blades, held on, and pulled out a clump of dirt. I dangled it over Superman’s face and moved it back and forth until the grains hanging on to the roots began to sprinkle.

“Look,” I said. “It’s pixie dust.” Rick rolled to his side and peeked at me through one of the leg holes. I gave him a smile. Then I stood up, threw the clump away, and started hanging the clothes on the line.

I never use the dryers at the Laundromat. Why should I pay for something that my garments can do perfectly well on their own? Having my laundry spread out in front of me on the clothesline makes me feel calm inside. I can see where everything is.

The first time Rick threw Slim out the window, I came home from work and found the cage empty. I got this funny “something’s wrong” feeling, and I knew I was right when I walked into the kitchen. The rabbit was in the sink and Rick was under the table.

“What did you do?” I said. I threw down my pocketbook, and Rick grabbed his T-shirt and pulled the front of it over his head. He does this when he knows he’s done something wrong. He doesn’t have to get caught, either. Sometimes I’ll be kicking back with a cigarette, maybe a glass of red wine, and Rick will walk into the room with his shirt pulled tight over his head like some kind of headless horseman, his arms hanging limp out of the sleeves on either side, his belly bare. In the room, out of the room. Not a word. In, out. It’s a sign. Then all I have to do is follow his trail back where he’s come from and I’ll always find something wrong.

Slim was scratching and clamoring around in the sink. His nails made tiny tinny noises on the metal like something awful. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat. He was shaking all over, and one of his big back legs was stuck out sideways and dragging behind him.

Rick’s voice came from underneath the table. He told me that Slim fell and now he wouldn’t stop biting.

“That’s because his leg is broken,” I said. “His leg looks like it’s about to fall off.” I crouched down. I could see Rick’s little white belly. His chest was shivering in and out, and I realized he was crying.