I Remember....
I used to let the dog lick salt off my feet. The beach was close back then, so even though I could not swim I would smell of driftwood that the tides brought. Even so, the dog smelled of curdled cheese and the obese mosquitoes that flew around all of the gas station cheap shops.
The hairs of its fur clumped together, glued by sand and wet grass. Eyes with a melancholy shine would sneak a look around sometimes, but only ever for me. Maybe it was a sign of the common alone we both knew all too well.
But I just think it was because I let it lick the salt off my feet.
