“Looks like I did it again, Peanut.”

Hair plastered to her face, Meg sat cross-legged in Nathan’s closet. She rested her forehead in her hands. Peanut, never one to miss an opportunity, leapt off a stack of old records and jumped in her lap. The terrier licked her salty face. What had started as a simple project to find a sentimental gift for Sean from Nate’s things had mushroomed into a time capsule of their twenty-odd years together. She was marooned in an ocean of his things. Peanut whined.

Hot and sticky, Meg picked through the piles of records, old business suits, bottles of barely used cologne, ratty tee shirts, and a curated collection of Consumer Reports magazines. Peanut pounced on a shoebox of old receipts. She had been meaning to go through Nathan’s clothes for months. Susie had even offered to help, but Meg couldn’t do it. Meg wrapped herself in Nate’s football tee shirt. She yanked at her hair, needing something else to hurt. Suddenly, Peanut charged into her. Growling, her dog lunged at her face. Twisting away, Meg fell to one side.

One, two, three bright drops of blood splashed on the closet carpeting. Meg felt the warm wetness on her face. Peanut raced rom the closet. Stunned, Meg stumbled to their bathroom. Nathan’s toothbrush was still in the cup next to hers. Nathan’s ridiculous pine tar soap still sat in the dish next to his razor. A bloody nose gushing down her chin greeted Meg in the mirror. Squeak. Tail wagging, Peanut waited outside the open bathroom door with a stuffed duck in his teeth. Head low, the dog shook the squeaky toy and then dropped it at her feet. Meg scrubbed at her face with Nate’s football shirt. Peanut stood expectant, his head cocked.

“Apology not accepted!”

With another squeak, Peanut snatched the toy duck back and walked off.