I'm heavy metal, I'm hollow wood
He was so used to the sound of Jigano coming and going now—and such a strange thing that was to think of, that the silence Karlia had left him with had been so profoundly changed—that he did not register it. He was lost in the moment, in the sunlight spilling over him in warm and gentle waves, lost in the bushy, wagging tail of his dog and the laugh in her bark and the laugh in her brown, warm eyes as she chuffed and lunged for his hands. Sometimes teeth gently closed over them, and he shook her muzzle until she made a most undignified sound and let go, happy as can be, pawing at him and coming back for more.
He was ruffling her fur, saliva-coated hands buried in her scruff, when Jigano came out of the door and gracefully sort of fell down on the porch.
And for once, nothing seemed wrong in the world: everything was just as it should be, with the sunlight on his face, his hands buried in warm fur, the slight weight of Jigano's head against his knee. He did not move his hands—he wanted to, but he found himself stilling, not freezing so much as simply ceasing—even though his fingers longed to trail the sharp line of Jigano's jaw, or touch the thin skin of his soft ears, or gently tug on that silky, white fur—
Slowly he moved one slimy hand from Ella's neck and up along her jaw, tipping it up so that their eyes aligned. She politely, and confusedly, wagged her tail as he carefully brushed a thumb over the soft fur next to her nose.
"I'm thinking about leaving," he said—to the dog, to Jigano, to himself, to the open door of his birdcage.
He was ruffling her fur, saliva-coated hands buried in her scruff, when Jigano came out of the door and gracefully sort of fell down on the porch.
And for once, nothing seemed wrong in the world: everything was just as it should be, with the sunlight on his face, his hands buried in warm fur, the slight weight of Jigano's head against his knee. He did not move his hands—he wanted to, but he found himself stilling, not freezing so much as simply ceasing—even though his fingers longed to trail the sharp line of Jigano's jaw, or touch the thin skin of his soft ears, or gently tug on that silky, white fur—
Slowly he moved one slimy hand from Ella's neck and up along her jaw, tipping it up so that their eyes aligned. She politely, and confusedly, wagged her tail as he carefully brushed a thumb over the soft fur next to her nose.
"I'm thinking about leaving," he said—to the dog, to Jigano, to himself, to the open door of his birdcage.
just shy of greatness, ah, ah
