Several neighborhoods away, there stood a vacated house. The real estate sign in front of it had been there for so long that it now projected crooked from the earth. It was obvious from the wear of the siding and the untended landscaping that no one had lived there or visited for a long time, and most likely wouldn’t.

Aria spotted a doghouse through the chain-link fence. The heavy chain affixed to the metal post beside it meant it was most likely built for a guard dog. The red paint had faded so badly that most of it had given way to gray, weathered wood. The once-black shingles had turned the color of ash and were lifting and corroding at the edges. Despite the dilapidation of the little shelter, she felt it calling to her, a promise of being able to let go of the tension of living like a fugitive for so long. She slipped her shoes back on, leaving the one that still had laces untied, and walked toward it.

Most people would have felt demeaned by crawling on their hands and knees into a doghouse. But Aria had always felt much closer to animals than she had ever felt to people. Though the dust that covered the floor made her cough, she felt soothed by the thought of the dog that once lived there. She curled herself up in a fetal position, not caring whether her head was in the dust. Not caring how much of it she breathed in. She imagined herself curled up with the dog that once lived there. The image of him was so strong she could feel him guarding her and soothing her to sleep.

There are times when the pain that someone faces is so great that the mind cannot wrap itself around it. The mind cannot dissect it to find meaning and it cannot analyze it to figure out how to avoid it in the future. Instead, the mind simply submits to the dizziness of it. This was one such time for Aria. That dizziness came upon her like a sandstorm. And in the process of submitting to it, she fell asleep.

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5