Color of dark fruit. Apple or maybe deep, juicy plum. The dog had come out of nowhere while Sam sat calmly in the garden.
The dog was from the neighbors. He had hunger-jumped the fence and took a deep bite out of Sam’s delicious arm. Quick sting. Dog teeth sinking in. “Please forgive me,” his dog eyes said. “My master’s away, and I have no speech.”
Sam wondered how the dog could be forgotten like that.
“I understand,” Sam said, “I do have speech, but no one listens.” It had been weeks since Isabel, but that’s exactly who he meant. He remembered too well the deep bite she had taken out of his heart, even though they had just had dinner.
Sam offered the dog his other arm.
Francine Witte is the author of four poetry chapbooks and two full-length collections, Café Crazy and The Theory of Flesh from Kelsay Books. Her flash fiction has appeared in numerous journals and anthologized in the most recent New Micro (W.W. Norton). Her novella-in-flash, The Way of the Wind, has just been published by Ad Hoc Fiction, and her full-length collection of flash fiction, Dressed All Wrong for This, was recently published by Blue Light Press. She lives in New York City.