Unfortunately, I am notorious for never having a proper bag when my dog poops on a walk. What can I say? The excited panting, the screechy whines, the wagging tail; they all distract me from grabbing that little sack before I run out the door (anyone who thinks dogs don’t smile hasn’t seen mine before a walk).
Today, in lieu of the absent bag, I reached for a piece of paper blowing by in hopes of scooping the offensive pile into the nearest garbage can. The paper was thick, but stained wet and dirty from it’s flopping journey through the park. As I lifted it, I paused. There was writing, beautifully scripted on the paper.
All it said was, “Beloved, I’m sorry. I’m on the 9:10 to Tokyo on Friday. Please don’t let me go.” It was also signed: “Lovingly, Keith.” The paper had been carefully folded and meticulously written.
I pictured Keith, waiting on the, what, train platform, tarmac? I pictured his beloved, reading the letter, tears in her eyes as she weighed her options. Their fate seemed entirely in my hands. The letter was dated Wednesday. Time was running out. A sloppy tongue licked my face back into reality. I stood and began walking, faster and faster, in the direction of an answer.