Part Five
Aggie
Pounds were depressing forms of torture. I hated wandering their lengths seeing the desperate faces of abandoned animals staring up at me through the bars, knowing I’d never be able to save them all. I reached out, blindly clutching at Ice’s hand. He let me, squeezing it warmly when I needed the reassurance.
I hated animal shelters.
We’d been here long enough for a girl to take our names, details and then hand us a clipboard and pen. She looked harried, explaining that today w...
Published on August 12, 2017 22:33