“The hospital brought in a counselor, but she used words like penetration, also ejaculate. As a noun. Journey as a synonym for life.”

Sailor is busy now, sniffing the floor with a little too much enthusiasm. It goes beyond sniffing into a snuffling that implies prey. A squirrel in a bush. Or with the new influx of urban wildlife, a rabbit. Or in this case, traces of blood from a large man.

“Hey, buddy.” Neale rubs her thumb over the sharp angle of bone above his eye. “Everything is over. All is said and done.”

He casually licks the bruised side of her face. He’s a visiting nurse.

“Maybe Joe and I should get a dog. I think we could use a canine presence in the house.”

“We could look on Petfinder,” Cate says, but she can tell Neale has drifted away somewhere. “I wanted to be the one who brought you home, but Mrs. Pappageorge beat me to it.”

Neale revives a little to say, “We were at a red and when it changed, she jumped like a jackrabbit in front of the oncoming traffic to turn left. Laying on her horn the whole way. It was a heart-stopper. When I mentioned that it was a little scary, she told me this was how she learned to do it in driving school. That must’ve been a driving school in Athens. I imagine it has more aggressive traffic, more done with honking.” Cate looks around. The kitchen is not its usual mess. It’s not even just clean, it’s sanitized. Maureen called in a crime scene/dead person cleaning service, which did a great job with the exception of the intractable bloodstain, which is now the only sign of a large event having taken place here.

“Let me text Maureen. Tell her you’ve already tried this stuff.”

Right away a reply buzzes in.

bludout worthless. do you have any magnesium chalk around there?

Instead of replying sure, cases of it, Cate texts back: thanks!, clicks her phone off, and slips it in her back pocket, then turns to Neale.

“Let me help you up.” Using her hands like blades, she awkwardly hoists Neale by her armpits. This proves to be a difficult negotiation. “Getting down on the floor might have been a bad move for you so soon.”

“Fuck,” Neale says when she’s up, rearranging herself over her feet, shaking one foot out of sleep. She’s missing a tooth, far enough toward the front to be noticeable. Cate hadn’t registered this before. “Little Billy Bob thing you’ve got going here.” Cate taps a finger against Neale’s cheek.

“Cold.” Referring to Cate’s fingertips. Meanwhile, Cate is adding up the damage Neale has sustained.

“Oh man. So much happened before I arrived. If only I hadn’t been running late—”