Calico by Colin Corde

Calico

by Colin Corde

On the bus route to my elementary school there was a sign outside a house that read something like: “To the asshole who hit my dog and didn’t bother to stop, fuck you!” I thought of this

in the split second before I hit you. I prayed to many gods I don’t believe in hoping they could save you.

In the rearview mirror, your body contorted and flung off the pavement. I couldn’t stop.

By the time an hour had passed someone moved you onto the shoulder. The overgrown grass swaddled your form, as if presenting you to the house across the street where I’m sure you lived. Where I’m sure they’ll miss you.