goodnight, sleep tight

She didn't look too well a couple days ago, but she preferred the wild life over a warm bed, or a lap to lay her head down on. Disheveled was her middle name and I thought nothing more of it.

Carmen was stubborn in her choices and it's not that I didn't try to please her; rubbing her neck with multiple fingers, holding her when she bothered to visit the house. Maybe my words weren't the nicest to her on some days, but I did my best with what little I had.

Last night Belle was trying to tell me something was up but we were never able to breakdown our communication barrier. I'm not fucking Dr. Doolittle and got tired of following her circles around the kitchen. A walk around the house offered little other than a lawn that needed watering and the nothing I wasn’t expecting to find.

I awoke before the alarm this morning sensing something.
A light? - A sound?

Behind a storage container In my closet against some of my old meaningful paintings I found her. She filled a space that was empty the afternoon before, choosing a quiet, dark place inside my room to close her eyes one last time.

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