swayed raze she could be forty. or sixty. or a hundred. she's older than me, but she has one of those faces age doesn't seem to mark. her blonde hair looks clean and filthy at the same time. or maybe it's grey. she's wearing a jacket as thin as the grass beneath her feet. some people just look lonely. she looks like that. there's something around the skin that borders her eyes. something like fear and frail happiness fighting each other to a standstill. i stare at her without letting her know what i'm doing. i sketch out who i think she is based on what i can shovel out of my own guts. it isn't much. most people who come to the park with their dogs are really here to walk their phones. the dog is a glorified prop. some of those people can't control the ball of energy they've got tethered to the other end of a leash. the dog ends up leading them. others yank their pets all over the place and bully them into moving at their speed. she doesn't do any of that. her dog is this little white thing. some kind of mutt terrier. the two of them walk together. they take their time. they stop to look at everything. when she sees us feeding patches, she keeps her distance so our squirrel friend won't see the dog and get spooked. no one does that. ever. her dog doesn't chase any squirrels. he's as gentle as she is. he keeps looking at her. like he wants to know she's all right. like he wants her to know he's still there. i lose track of them. a bug flies into my ear. i don't know what it is. something black that isn't an ant. i didn't know insects could scream. this one does. it isn't anything anymore when i dig it out with my finger. it's just dead. i wonder if it knew what it was doing when it smacked into me. the last i see of the woman and her dog, they're on the playground. she sits on one of the swings, rocking back and forth with her mutt terrier in her arms. his chin on her shoulder. a mother and her furry child holding each other to stay afloat. i keep my distance. even trade. 220413 what's it to you? who go blather from