Crayvin
When I pull up to my house, Cassandra's black truck is still parked alongside the curb. I walk up the path, unlock the door, and step in. The house is pitch dark, except for the light coming from the TV in the living room. Besides Piggy's paws echoing around the room from running on my concrete floors to greet me, it's also silent. I drop my keys and wallet on the table and walk towards the living room. A message on Netflix is on the screen, asking if she is still watching her show, explaining why there is no noise from the TV.
And then, lying peacefully on the couch, with her hands folded in prayer under her angelic, heart-shaped face, is Cassandra. Her thin lips are sealed and she is sleeping silently. Piggy hops up on the other end of the couch, curling himself up into a ball
