from The Trouble With Being Born
Flash Bang Boom
With the encouragement of family and friends, I adopted a
retired bomb-sniffing dog. I called him “Flash” – after the
flashing lights of a migraine, I would joke to anyone who
asked. One day he discovered under the couch the severed
head of a doll I didn’t even know I had. Next the piano
stopped making sounds when I sat down to play it. Then the
tree outside my window appeared suspended like an astronaut
in space. Now I often catch the dog lying on the couch
studying me with cold, squinty eyes as if calculating exactly
how much a person can bear.