The dog inside her wants out. No muscle left to climb the fence that’s quietly been built over the years. What can she do: she likes shadows, the lesser pain holding her back from the deeper cut of not having a stake anymore. No attachments, no leash. But the dog needs restraints, someone near her to find her freedom. Maybe living is just this: the need of someone, something to hold so we can choose when to let go and come back—so we can be surprised once love appears on a plate in time to see how hungry we were, to feel how happy a dog can be.