He didn’t want to be seen. No questions. No offers of help. He slammed the blade of the shovel into the ground, stepped on the edge, then lifted up earth and threw it onto a growing pile.
I’m alone again, he thought.
He chucked the shovel into the ground again, and a car approached on the narrow country road. He froze until it passed him, unseeing. Then he began again.
Scoop. Alone. Scoop. Alone.
The pile grew.
And then, with tears still streaming down his face, he knelt, cradled the dog in his arms, and laid it into the hole.
Other Micro Monday writers:
Pete Lit (our inadvertent founder)
Writers, join the parade. Drop me a line. Get linkage.
When I see you there alone
It almost breaks my heart
But it doesn’t break enough
For me to break my whole life apart
I guess we could still be friends
And we can talk all night
But I have to bite my tongue
And sometimes words don’t come out right
(via iTunes shuffle play)