The Order of Things

My face felt rearranged, like I’d slept in an argument. My pulse throbbed in places that usually kept quiet. Every nerve seemed to be taking initiative. I felt assembled rather than rested.

Sami texted me from work: Can you grab Otis from daycare and drop him at my place? Cross the street. Then my place. Only two blocks. You have keys.

I texted back. Yes. Two blocks upper limit but fine. Here goes.

Standing caused a temporary evacuation of my vision. I grabbed the fainting couch for stability. Things agreed to be visible again.

Kitchen counter. Checked mirror nose first. Raised morale.

Shoes. Wrong foot. Right foot. Jacket.

I made it to the door and got my keys out too early. It was fine until I shut the door. Keys dropped. Kicked them further. No time.

The stairs were track and field and I was reliving a dream where I was good at that.

I came to my senses after jumping down three steps. The stairs just looked at me.

Outside, Cobble Hill felt loud. Across the street looked far. I crossed. The dog daycare window was fogged.

Inside, Otis appeared immediately. Apathetic. Eyes that said, you are bad at being a person. The woman behind the counter asked for my name. I gave her Sami’s. Then my own. Then stopped talking before I confessed unrelated things.

She leashed Otis and handed him over. He pulled toward the door with confidence. I followed, pretending we were in agreement. He stopped to investigate the sidewalk. I stood still and performed calm.

“Two blocks” was misleading. Otis wanted to read everything. I wanted to keep moving before morale dropped. We compromised by stopping constantly.

At Sami’s brownstone, the lock recognized me and demanded a sacrifice anyway. Keys auditioned. Otis sat patiently, which felt judgmental. One key went in confidently and achieved nothing. Another refused to turn. Apologized to the door and Otis. Tried the morale key. Success.

Inside, Otis shook himself like he’d completed a journey. I wiped his feet carefully, counting them twice to be sure. Four. Still four. Good.

The leash came off without incident. Otis immediately located the couch and arranged himself like a solution.

My phone buzzed. A thank-you text from Sami. No problem.

Back home, I lay on the fainting couch.

I crossed the street and a dog got home.

The deed sat there, insufficient.