Unlikely Animals

by Annie Hartnett

We spend most of our time focused on the thoughts of the human beings of our town, but sometimes it’s good to be absorbed in the thoughts of a dog.

It’s unfair how the body crumbles while the soul still lives in it.

So what if everything was a performance? There was only a little bit of the performance left. Maybe she should forgive him and try to enjoy the show.

She wasn’t a completely terrible teacher. She just needed one single sole minute to collect herself.

Those conversations, those rituals, were the kinds of things that make up a life.

“Everyone deserves to be looked for if no one knows where they are,” Clive said simply, and the children nodded. That was a satisfactory reason for kids who knew the rules of Hide-and-Seek.

Anticipatory grief, it’s called, when you’re sad about something that hasn’t happened yet. Oh man, we thought at Maple Street, how we missed the excruciating pain of being alive.

You’re not too messed up at all. You’re just as messed up as you should be.”

Who was she bargaining with? She had always said she was an atheist, or at least an agnostic, whenever the topic came up, but secretly she thought it would be nice to believe in God sometimes, really go whole hog on the Jesus thing. It would be so great if you really felt like there was someone out there who listened to your bargains, your pleas, your promises to yourself. Like someone somewhere was keeping a lookout.