anti:freeze

sleeping dog in a salon, shot with the Lomo, of course

I woke up on the floor, my cheek pressed hard into a dirty rug. It was textured, rough like sisal, with bare patches and snags that made my skin itch. I breathed deep. The smell was overwhelming. Old dust, unwashed hair, dirty copper. The copper smell was my own blood - from biting my tongue during the seizure. I had fallen asleep afterwards, and my boyfriend left me where I was, unsure if it was safe to carry me upstairs to his room. (I learned all this later.)

Across the room, his dog slept soundly on the couch, covered up to his neck with a quilt. His front paws were crossed and hanging down off the cushion, his chin resting in between. I had never seen a dog sleep so deeply.

"You both had a seizure at the same time," my boyfriend said. "I didn't know which one of you I should help."

He straightened the dog's blanket. "So I helped him."