The Garage Christmas: A Father, a Son, and the Dog Who Stayed

precious flour.

His body was warm and heavy, and his breath hitched in little sighs against my collarbone.

“Home,” I whispered, like the word could wrap around him and keep him here.

I set him on his bed by the wood stove. He tried to stand, failed, then settled with a grunt that sounded like an old man lowering himself into a chair.

I made coffee. Real continue reading …