I fell asleep early, to be awoken by thunder, and rain. G was still up and working, hunched over the kitchen counter, his laptop a neon Mondrian of microchip entrails.
The dog was on the floor at his feet, his eyes wide and white-rimmed, shaking through the storm. I lay with him on the red and pink linoleum, my head on his neck, and pulled out clumps of his winter undercoat, until we were both surrounded by clouds of black fur. It’s stuck to my hair and in my ears now.
He’s my first child, after all.