-SIENNA-
When I was ten years old, a stray dog followed me home from school. He was an old dog, with black fur all over his body and white fur around his muzzle. As he looked hungry, I fed him, anxious for my mother to come home from work and ask her to keep him.
But of course she said no.
The little money we had barely covered our expenses and the dog spent long periods of time alone before one of us came home. So, after giving him a good bath, taking care of his flies and wounds and feeding him for a few days, we took him to a nearby shelter.
Ignoring its whines when we left it behind squeezed my heart.
And yet, asking Matt to leave my room felt even worse.
Avoiding him has turned out to be a difficult task. He's everywhere, no matter how constantly I change my schedule. When I w
