CLOUD
Laying on his back, Hogan watched a cloud drift across the sky.
"Dog," he murmured. The cloud looked like the little beagle, Snoopy, he had as a kid.
"Motorcycle," he said when the cloud twisted into a new shape. Like his motorcycle back home.
"Home." The cloud became his parents' humble house in Bridgeport. He thought he could even see the front porch swing where he and his Dad would often chat about everything, and nothing.
The cloud lost its shape. It turned black. Rain fell. It splashed around Hogan, mixing with the blood that formed a puddle beneath him.