Night Kill
that the dogs looked to be having a great time. They got treats to keep their heads up, to let the handler set their feet right, to trot without frisking. They found wonderful opportunities to make new friends or new enemies, depending on personalities, and were socializing nonstop. My sorrows were supplanted for the moment by busy canines and their obsessed humans.
    We meandered around dogs being brushed and fluffed on benches. I cheered up enough to flirt with a Bernese mountain dog on a grooming bench, who slobbered sweetly on my fingers, while Marcie cooed at a bright-eyed Lhasa Apso. This was fun after all.
    “Marcie,” I said, “we are both already in relationships with companion animals. Don’t be promiscuous.”
    “You should talk. You got as much drool on that dog as he got on you.”
    “You still hanging with that Jake guy?” I’d met him once—quiet, low-key, some sort of doctor’s assistant.
    “Jack. Not for a while.”
    Smart, cute Marcie hadn’t had a relationship last for more than a month since college. “Deeply flawed?”
    “More like stale-dated. A high school basketball game is still the high point of his life.”
    “And I thought fear of commitment was a male trait,” I said.
    “Look, sometimes I wish I could toss my heart over a cliff and dive after it, but I do things differently.”
    “Scared to crash-land at the bottom like I did. You should be braver—there can’t be that many guys as bogus as Rick.”
    “Let’s get tea,” Marcie said. “I want to sit at the ring with bleachers and watch the Finnish spitzes.”
    “We need doughnuts with sprinkles on top. That should go well with spitzes.”
    We got our treats and found space on a narrow bleacher bench. I’d never seen a Finnish spitz in my life. They looked like foxes, small and red-gold, with tails curled over their backs. One particularly lively female yipped firmly at her handler when the tidbits came too slow. As long as the action kept up, the ache in my chest lay dormant.
    “Thanks for rooting me out of my cave,” I told Marcie. “I’m almost enjoying myself.” I had colorful sugar sprinkles all over me. They left a little stain on my jeans when I brushed them off.
    “That was the idea,” she said, eating her doughnut with not a sprinkle out of place or the slightest mar on her khakis or pink sweater.
    “Obedience trial,” I said, waving at the ring.
    German shepherds, golden retrievers, and several other breeds heeled perfectly, heads up, close to their handlers. Their rears dropped promptly when the handlers stopped, except for a young Rhodesian Ridgeback, who wandered off to greet a poodle. Her handler caught her up and clipped on the leash.
    “I’m the Ridgeback, but I have to act like a golden retriever.”
    “Which means…?”
    “Do what Calvin tells me to do instead of thinking for myself. That’s what’s required to survive in the rubble Rick left of my life. If only I’d never started going out with him…”
    Marcie wiped her fingers on a napkin and wadded it into a tight little ball. “You’re acting more like an abused Doberman.”
    “What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right.
    “This bitterness is corrosive. You aren’t eating, you aren’t sleeping, and you blame Rick for all your problems. Maybe you need to quit being so angry at him and try a little forgiving.” She unwadded the napkin and started tearing it to shreds.
    “Get real. He lied to me and manipulated me and died drunk.” Acid roiled in my stomach, bitter in the back of my throat. I dug around for patience, wishing I’d found a gentler voice. Romantic Marcie, too wary of men for a serious relationship herself, trying to salvage the Rick ♥Iris story.
    “Denial has its uses, but this is not going to work. You’re trying to pretend you never loved him and he never loved you.” Marcie’s face was flushed, her jaw set stubbornly.
    “I’m trying to move on with my life, but he’s cost me my job.”
    “It’s

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