He Said He Felt Suffocated
We watched football and I pulled on the blanket. The blanket smelled like Spot. I asked about Spot between plays and my boyfriend said he’d been crying all day and couldn’t talk now—his voice sounded sick and cold-like. But he had told me some things: Spotty had run out and one truck hit him and then he flew into another. On TV, the Steelers got a touchdown and I pictured Spotty’s body: flying, my boyfriend standing over him with his hands in his pockets. At halftime, I gave my boyfriend the card I’d bought for him and he said thank you and kissed me and he put it on the table. He got up and made popcorn. We ate and my boyfriend watched and I looked to where Spot used to sit with his head down. I put my hand there. My boyfriend yelled into the TV. He punched up and out. He shivered.