The dog, caving more to the concrete pull of the leash than the supposed authority of its holder, dropped her tail low and tagged along amiably enough through the house, nails click-skittering along the floors. Once they were outside, she paused to squat in the grass. That being what she had been going on about in the first place, the whole scene probably felt to her like a battle she had won, and Near couldn’t staunch a pang of envy. Lew got what she wanted, and he just kept losing and losing and losing.
At least it wasn’t raining.
“You hope what’s not far?” he snapped a second before remembering “it” was his very own it, the gas station he was sure had passed before the long stretches of scenic Northwest nothing kicked in, steep drops and hidden drives.
Quick, graceless self-correction: “Oh, yeah … no, I don’t think so? I mean everything’s kind of far,” and how he wanted, bodily like thirst or hunger, to crack some obvious joke about his family name, but who would he have been amusing? Not the kid, not the dog, not himself. Maybe the gas station sold senses of humor in a rack next to the phone cards.
The car, a blue mid-size something with more bells and whistles than he would have picked only they hadn't had anything else on the lot, sat just down the driveway, half-lost within the layer of mist the rain left behind. It screeched into the throes of life as Near’s finger found and pushed the alarm button. Lew was mid-sympathetic wail by the time he fumbled it back into silence and popped the door unlocked.
“You going to sit up front, or do I get to chauffeur you?”
At least it wasn’t raining.
“You hope what’s not far?” he snapped a second before remembering “it” was his very own it, the gas station he was sure had passed before the long stretches of scenic Northwest nothing kicked in, steep drops and hidden drives.
Quick, graceless self-correction: “Oh, yeah … no, I don’t think so? I mean everything’s kind of far,” and how he wanted, bodily like thirst or hunger, to crack some obvious joke about his family name, but who would he have been amusing? Not the kid, not the dog, not himself. Maybe the gas station sold senses of humor in a rack next to the phone cards.
The car, a blue mid-size something with more bells and whistles than he would have picked only they hadn't had anything else on the lot, sat just down the driveway, half-lost within the layer of mist the rain left behind. It screeched into the throes of life as Near’s finger found and pushed the alarm button. Lew was mid-sympathetic wail by the time he fumbled it back into silence and popped the door unlocked.
“You going to sit up front, or do I get to chauffeur you?”