I head to the vet after Callum gives me directions, Luna’s little head in the crook of my neck, her warm(er) body plastered up again my skin, her little paws even getting stuck in the cups of my bra, but that is just a sacrifice I am willing to make in the name of her well-being.
Her whimpering stops after another ten minutes of navigating traffic because that’s when roadwork usually happens—overnight when there aren’t a lot of cars around—and I had to take a detour to get to the vet’s office while Callum sits quietly beside me.
Now, I don’t really mind the quiet. I just don’t like it all that much when there should be a conversation happening. What do they call it—companionable silence?
Yeah, whatever that term is, Callum and I do not have it, and I’m not too sure why.
notIt could be
