Emily was polite to me, but distant. Quiet. Always retreating to her room with Charlie.
And every time I saw that dog curled beside her, I felt like the outsider in my own home.
So one morning, while she was in the hospital for another round of treatments, I drove Charlie to a shelter three towns over. I told the staff he was a stray. I didn’t stay long enough to see the look in his eyes when I left.
When Emily came home and asked where Charlie was, I told her he must have run away.
She didn’t cry then.
She just nodded slowly and turned toward her room.
That was the moment something in the house changed.
