When the Signal Dies, Love Is Logistics—and Every Choice Has a Cost

said.

I glanced at Barnaby through my SUV window. Old. Wrapped. Safe.

Then I looked back at the dog in the sedan—young enough to still trust the world, terrified enough to shake.

Here it was again.

Capacity.

Choice.

Heat as currency.

I crouched slightly, keeping my hands visible, and held the blanket up. “I’m going to toss this in,” I said. “Okay? Put it continue reading …