The sky was bronze and cashmere with heavy clouds holding the last light. A penetrating moon crept lazily towards its apex and pressed through the clouds. The thought of night coming on made me uneasy. I never liked dusk. The shift was too much. Light thinning to darkness with the night not yet real. The sun and moon in a narrow space where nothing settled.

I walked with my hands in my pockets. Slow and careful.

I left work late. The kind of late that comes from meetings that run long because no one wants to be the one to end them. Numbers, projections, a client who needed reassurance more than answers. By the time I stepped outside, the day was already slipping away.

Deal with it I thought to myself, but even that sounded forced. Like something I had learned rather than felt.

As I neared my house, the street felt narrower than it should have.

Ahead, a parcel delivery truck crawled toward the end of the block and stopped. Its rear lights blinked while cars stacked up behind it with their horns already impatient. The driver stepped out, adjusted his hat, and glanced once at the line of traffic.

He rendered a quick look, a conforming gesture, and a small lift of the hand. He wasn’t apologetic, he was just aware. He grabbed a package off the truck and turned back to his work.

A woman stood ahead of me with her dog, waiting while it defecated on the small strip of grass between sidewalk and street. The dog looked at me, and then up at her while it squatted. Sometimes dogs do that when they are leashed. Domesticated. Pulled out of the wild and trained to wait for approval even while doing what their bodies require. I have seen it before. That look is not guilt. It is like they are embarrassed by their dependency.

The owner was glancing at the forming line of cars, as was I. She turned her head back to regard the dog and then raised up toward me. We shared a look. Brief and incredulous. There may have been a smile. The kind that says of course this is happening without saying anything at all. For a moment it felt like we were above it, spectators to a small inconvenience that belonged to someone else.

I returned to my muted feelings. Quiet even.

There weren’t any other people on the sidewalk, but I doubt I would have spoken if there were. As the truck moved on and the cars began to inch forward, I stepped past the woman and the dog near the edge of my yard. I broke from my malaise again and raised my hand in a kind hello that was meant to be cordial.

I betrayed myself.

The dog lunged with its teeth bared toward my neck. Instead of my throat, it caught my scarf. It tore at it, rolling on the ground, snarling and growling against its capture.

The woman was surprised by this and was turned around by the quick movements. She labored to gain control of the animal, and once she did, she apologized immediately. Over and over. Said her dog would ‘never hurt anyone.’ Said this had ‘never happened before.’ Said she was ‘so sorry.’

I was pissed when I realized I could have been severely injured. I also imagined the dog’s head severed. Mounted on a stick. While his body burned into a heap of ashes. And the scarf around his neck would replace the one that was once around mine. The thought came fully formed. I said none of it. I just smiled and said, “That’s all right.”

I guess he was pissed I caught him taking a shit.

I picked up my very expensive and necessary accoutrement from the ground. The dog made one more lunge at me to let me know I was his target. This time she held.

Of course, everybody in this neighborhood has a fucking dog and I slammed my gate harder than I intended to.