It's like a surreal painting. Like a bright print on dull brass, two figures at the window. They kiss. It's like me, but younger, and my wife. My Taya is tender and thin.

I see her hand on my brother's chest. The one with the bruises. My paws matter.

Leon kisses her as if there is no one else in the world more precious. I can understand him. Probably.

I don't know why I didn't rush and beat my woman back. I didn't hit him in the face with my fist. He deserved it. I just looked, and inside everything was torn from pain, fell into the underworld, where my...