Up at 2, up at 3, up at 5. The dog, now a senior, has been most playful in the darkest hours of the night. Nipping at your hand like she is a puppy again. At 5:30, 5:45, 6, at 6:30 a long walk. The sunrise today looks like plastic. Shades of pink and purple like a 90s ToysRUs.
As an essayist, it’s my job to take experiences from real life and write about them. And oftentimes, these experiences do not take place in a vacuum; they occur with other people. And these people have their own version of events, which may differ slightly from mine. Alas, memory is fungible, reality beget by perception and emotion.
