“Flies? Are you shitting me?” he asked, his face scrunching up as if this conversation had taken a turn from sort of uncomfortable to plainly crazy.

“Well, I mean, sure. We’re all born into the same place.  Why wouldn’t we all die into the same place wherever…whatever…that is?”  I wiped my mouth with the napkin, settled it back into my lap. “I need to know…to believe…that Hector is there.  That he’s somewhere safe, loved.”

“Heaven?” he asked again. “For a dog?”

“Heaven.  Nirvana.  Valhalla.  The afterlife…whatever.  I need to know he’s OK.”

“Why is that so important?”

I waited a minute, pretended to watch the weather report on one of the big-screen TVs.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)