I reached up, and I put my hand on her. She was sticky with blood. So much blood. “It’s okay,” I said. “No, Carl,” she said. “I don’t think it is.” “Donut,” I said, reaching up with my other hand. “Come here.” She circled once and then settled into the crook of my arm, like we used to do so long ago. I ran my hand across the top of her bloody, matted head.
