![]() To my left is a giant framed mirror propped against the wall, reflecting me, Mrs. ![]() We’re standing in the front foyer of the Reed home. “Came prepared,” I tell her, taking Bear’s leash. So I smile, tugging at the bottom of my army-green raincoat. It’s not like I give a fuck about her, either. ![]() She doesn’t, though, which is fine, really. She looks like she actually gives a fuck about me as a person. She looks like she absolutely hates that I have to walk her collie, Bear, on a cold and stormy day in mid-February. I’ve been walking dogs in the Thornfield Estates subdivision for almost a month now, and if there’s one thing I’ve definitely figured out, it’s that what matters most is how everything looks. ![]() That’s the important thing-that I know that she feels bad. ![]() Reed is holding her dog Bear’s leash, making a face at me, this frown of exaggerated sympathy that’s supposed to let me know how bad she feels about sending me out in the rain on this Monday morning. Rain has been pouring down all morning, making my drive from Center Point out here to Mountain Brook a nightmare, soaking the hem of my jeans as I get out of the car in the Reeds’ driveway, making my sneakers squelch on the marble floors of the foyer.īut Mrs. It is the absolute shittiest day for a walk. ![]()
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