She didn't remember the last time she'd been outside. She woke up in the late afternoon.
It looked like it had been a hot day.
The phone was ringing. It was Mitch. She didn't want to talk to him.
The smell of the dog crap was stronger than usual. She really should clean that up. She really should bring him outside.
He deserved a lot better.
"Sorry, Gunther."
The cuffs on her shirt were turning yellow. She should probably eat today.
She really didn't want to talk to Mitch.
Maybe she should check herself in somewhere.
But who would feed the dog.
As far as he knew, everyone was on a trip. As far as he knew, everyone was coming home.
She knew by the weight in her muscles that this wouldn't be a day for talking, or eating, or cleaning.
But she made herself get up.
She had to feed the dog.
