And just like that, the silence gets filled with quiet sobs as I fell to my knees when I knew no one was around. I didn’t know why I was crying this time. But at the same time, I felt like I needed to. God, I cried even after I promised myself I wouldn’t. There were too many tears recently. Too much sadness. My brain automatically went to blame Ray. And why wouldn’t I, if I were a planet, he was the sun. And even with him, if I kept staring, my eyes would burn. But this ragged, scratchy cry felt so good. 

The large foal’s head pushed itself between my hip and arm. I hated the touch, especially from the baby beast, but I was too distracted to care. Then again, the filly seemed less than the monster I would have called her on the first day I came to Tucson. She just looked… like a filly.  

The thought seemed innocent at first, but as its soft head lay on my crossed legs like a weighted blanket, my tears slowed. And only when completely alone, I admitted it was cute. 

I wiped my face and picked up the bottle, trying to be as gentle as I could. There were never babies in my life. In childhood, one dead and dying from depression, my parents loomed over me, and before nine, my mother homeschooled me. Enrolling me in a school was the only thing my dad did for me. And as I looked at the foal, its life almost mirrored my own. A dead mother and absent father. The horse sucked on the bottle, and with my free hand, I subconsciously began to pet her. I’d never so much as pet a dog, and as I stroked her head, some sense of calm rushed over me. I thought about what Sierra said to me the night she was born.

Besides, she’ll live on in your horse.

I started to believe it.

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