The dog groans and stretches out beside me. His head drops onto my lap, and I play with his ears. “We need to give this guy a name.” “He already has a name,” Karson says. “It’s Murder Mutt.” I roll my eyes. “Could you imagine walking him in the park and calling his name? We’d get so many stares.” “Could you imagine walking in the fucking park?” Karson asks. Fair.
