It's been three grueling days since she left. Three days full of pain, sorrow, and week-old carryout. I shuffled to the kitchen and peer into the fridge only to find three cans of BudLite and a carton of old Mushu pork. I watched the Chinese characters rotate countless times as my pitiful dinner is reheated by the microwave, and I returned to the dark green couch with my meal in-hand.
The Pacers were down by twenty in the fourth quarter, and I couldn't bear to watch anymore. I threw the remote at the bright screen and everything suddenly became dark. The only light in the house came from the flashing red light on the answering machine. Three messages from co-workers and one from my boss asking about my absence at the plant. It was only 9:30, but I decided to go to bed early since the television was broken.
The hours slowly ticked by, and my pillow muffled the faint sound of crying. Three hours passed before I finally fell asleep, and the light of the morning arrived earlier than I preferred. I forced myself into the shower and into my work uniform, so I could return to my station at the plant. As I opened the rusty door to my brown pickup I noticed a yellow sweater that Sarah left in the passenger seat. Rather than disposing of the garment, I decided to walk the two miles to the waste management facility. The cool fall breeze felt great passing through my hair, and I noticed a dog to my left. I had driven by this same blue house every morning my drive to work, but this time the house seemed different, and I stopped to take in my surroundings. I focused my attention on the brown dog paced back and forth along the fence of its kennel and unsuccessfully searched for a weak spot in the chain link fence. The dog was trapped with nowhere to run to.
I looked down at my watch and realized that I am late to work. I clocked in late and took my position near the water tanks, but my mind was unable to focus on the task in front of me. I spent the next seven hours thinking about that chocolate lab pacing back and forth in its pen waiting for its owner to return.
On my walk home, I passed by the same one level blue house with the lab outside, but this time there was a man with the dog. The man in the black coat opened the metal gate to the kennel and placed a bowl of food in front of the dog. The lab's tail beat rapidly back and forth, and the dog quickly ate the contents of the bowl. Once the dog finished its meal, the man picked up the bowl and closes the gate as he leaves. He leaves the dog in the pen knowing that the dog will still be within the confines of the kennel when the man returns. That night when I returned home I began creating a plan to avoid being lonely for the rest of my life.
The sun began to shine through my bedroom window, and I was so eager to begin my project that I called in sick to work. I started by removing the old red lawn mower, rusty bikes, and yard tools from the shed. Once the space was cleared out, I hurried...