He’s not opening his eyes back up fully and something about this bothers me.

 

Everything is heavy now and I don’t know why.

​

“Open your eyes,” I shout down at him. He only crosses his paws, waiting still.

​

Stupid, stupid boy.

​

One mustn’t permit such hesitations.

​

“Open. Your. Eyes.”

 

They seem to close even wider now just to spite me, head falling

into the lattice of his paws.

 

He pants, but it’s not a nervous pant. It’s obsequious—slow with deferent exhales.

 

Big dumb domesticated breaths . . .