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Dog panting and restless

Dog panting and restless

Dog panting and restless, the two of them, man and dog, sit in their little car.

She was a quiet, dark-eyed beauty with a touch of sadness, and his own eyes seemed to hold an equal sadness. They'd met a month earlier, in a small-town coffee shop in a small-town, sleepy town.

They hadn't slept together yet, but he felt that, in some way, they were beginning a life together. And in some way, they had already died.

She's only twenty-four, her life is almost over. She has no children, no family to speak of. She had always wanted children, and he had felt an ache, a sense of responsibility. She wants him, wants him to care, wants to be a mother to his child.

But he can't. He knows it, and he is willing to make her the mother of his child.

They sit there, holding hands, and he knows it could all fall apart. They have nothing. She has a tiny apartment, but it doesn't belong to her. She can't find anything to do. She has no friends. Her future is uncertain. She's pregnant, with his child, and he's frightened by the idea of being a father.

He's thirty-six years old. He's never been able to love. He's never been able to give himself.

The world is a beautiful place, and it could be a beautiful place for him, but he has never believed it. He's never believed that he was meant to live. He knows that he's been doomed to a life of emptiness and regret. And his life is almost over.

She's looking at him with tears in her eyes, and he can tell she's holding something back.

"What is it?" he asks her gently.

"I don't know what to do," she whispers. "It's the only thing I've ever wanted in my life, but I'm not good at it, and I'm not sure if I'm up to it." She smiles a little then. "What if you don't want it? What if you can't love me? What if this is all an act of revenge? What if you're a murderer?"

"I'm not," he says simply, and it seems as if they're both in a dream, the way they sit in the car and hold hands.

"I'm scared." Her eyes fill with tears again, and he looks away, unable to touch her, unable to comfort her. She can't possibly ask him if he wants a child. He could lie to her, but he can't lie to her when they are this close.

He leans back then, thinking of the woman in the park, of all the things he wants to do to her. He remembers how he wanted to fuck her in her cunt, to feel her screaming his name. He remembers the taste of her sweet, ripe cunt. He remembers the smell of her cunt, the smell of her cunt.

He sees a girl in the distance, sitting on a bench, reading. He knows that she has a life. She has a future. She has a child, a husband and a house. A life. But she has no friends, no family. She's lonely. She has no one.

"What if I was a murderer?" he asks her. He's not sure where he is going with this, and he knows he's treading dangerous waters. But he has a reason to be here, and it's something important.

"It's okay. We've got a little girl." Her eyes fill with tears again, and he squeezes her hand, trying to reassure her, wanting to hold her, to take her somewhere else, anywhere, so she'll never have to face the thing she's afraid of.

"What if I was?" he whispers.

"You're not."

"What if I was?"

She closes her eyes for a long moment, fighting to stay calm. It's something she's always fought.

"Do you remember the night we were together?" she asks, and it's as though they've been on this journey together. "Do you remember the night we were in the park?"

"Yes." He remembers the park. It's been two years, almost to the day, and she's never been more beautiful than she is now.

"You said something to me that night. You said you'd never kill a child." She looks at him carefully, wanting to be sure of what she's saying, and it seems she's been right. He was a murderer that night. He's been one all his life.

"If I hadn't been there, you might have killed her."

"Maybe." He doesn't know, and he never has. The night he went to the park was the only time he ever went to the park.

She reaches for him then, and as her hand touches his, he can feel that she's reaching to him, reaching for him with every part of her, in every way, and he can't fight her anymore.

"I won't kill her," he whispers, and it seems like something between them is changing, something in them, something inside them.

"I promise I won't kill her."

"You'll love her, and you'll be a good father."

"I'm going to love her. I'm going to love you."

They stay in the car for a long time, and the girl on the bench watches them with a growing sense of worry.

# The Night in the Park

She was alone. She sat on a bench, and he was alone.

It was a beautiful night, with a few stars visible, and she had found a new book. She was on a quest for the best book, for the best writer, and she had found one.

He was on his way to the park, to be with her, to have dinner, and to walk in the moon


Watch the video: Dogs panting - tired after running and playing (January 2022).