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 ⬇️