She saw a man in the city yesterday near the main intersection. He was walking about ten steps ahead of his very old-looking pit bull. The dog could hardly lift it's feet off the hot pavement, perhaps was dehydrated. A worn leather leash dragged by its side while the sauntering man chewed and spit his tobacco onto the curb ahead.
Then....Then she picked up our book, the one we wrote together. She opened it to Chapter 92. She read it... and then Chapter 93. She went back to Chapter 37 and read about Rox, the Rottweiler.
She isn't crying anymore.