On the phone, first hearing about the disappearance, and then the hen’s death, I held my composure. But then afterward, in the quiet, I realized I’d held her, and fed her, and ushered her into and out of her spaces like a game, and I was sad.
A Semi-Daily Thing by Wyatt Hull
On the phone, first hearing about the disappearance, and then the hen’s death, I held my composure. But then afterward, in the quiet, I realized I’d held her, and fed her, and ushered her into and out of her spaces like a game, and I was sad.