![]() ![]() “You’ve been in Tennessee for, what, twelve hours, and you’re already losing your mind.” “I can’t believe you just had a conversation with a dog,” Grace says. Piloting the car in a wide berth around his body, I forge ahead. ![]() His fur is sprinkled with gray, his eyes droopier than when we used to load him up in the back of a pickup truck and cruise town with him all weekend. Ignoring her, I watch Blue lazily yawn again and then close his eyes without a second thought to my request. The sun doesn’t do this in New York City. Wincing as the window slides down and the sun washes across my face, I wonder vaguely when I last saw a morning this bright. “Hang on, Grace.” I sigh, pulling the phone away from my ear. The hound dog lying in the middle of the road, right where the yellow stripes would be if this were a town with more than a thousand people, lifts his head. I hit the brakes, and my little rental car, not much bigger than a cracker box, rolls to a complete stop. ![]()
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