Loosed from its leash, the great Dane leapt and in a matter of minutes was galloping across the green. She had her red wellies on to match the coat and an umbrella that covered her hair. Here, in the open, no one could make out the red around her pupils, or the purple just beneath her left breast. There was silence here; neither sympathy nor guilt. With the blue leash tucked into her coat pocket, her hand was free. She folded the umbrella to feel the rain, which like snowdrops seemed to melt her sorrow: her delicate whimpers silently sailing the softening breeze…
It's Complicated 