Chapter 6: Benji
I don’t know why I followed.
Maybe because grief makes you numb enough to obey anything that sounds like your child.
They led me toward the living room.
Then I saw what they had brought, and the world stopped.
A golden blur shot across the rug and crashed into my knees, all soft fur, warm weight, and frantic tail. He lifted his face, and I saw the tiny cleft in his right ear.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “Benji?”
He climbed against me, whining, wriggling, licking my hands as if he had been waiting months to do exactly that.
I dropped to my knees and wrapped both arms around him.
“Benji,” I sobbed. “Benji, Benji…”
When I looked up, the teenagers were crying too.
A boy near the television held up a flash drive.
“Angie told us about him.” Continue Reading ⬇️
