The neighbor’s dog barked as I parked in my parents’ driveway, the kind of small suburban soundtrack that usually meant birthdays and potato salad. Inside, though, they’d set the room like an intervention: chairs in a loose circle, my mom in the center with tissues she planned to use, my dad standing with his arms crossed, my brother slouched with the look of a man who thinks the ending is already written. “Sit,” Dad ordered. I didn’t. Not at first. I placed a slim folder on the coffee table—a n

On a deserted highway, a dog was tied to a fence, and around its neck hung a strange envelope. What I saw inside made my heart stop. Every morning usually starts the same, but this one was an exception. I was driving to work when I noticed something strange on the highway. I instinctively slowed down and backed up a little. My eyes hadn’t deceived me — on a deserted highway, a dog was tied to a fence with a strange envelope hanging from its neck. I got out of the car, tense — I wanted to approac

On a deserted highway, a dog was tied to a fence, and around its neck hung a strange envelope. What I saw inside made my heart stop. Every morning usually starts the same, but this one was an exception. I was driving to work when I noticed something strange on the highway. I instinctively slowed down and backed up a little. My eyes hadn’t deceived me — on a deserted highway, a dog was tied to a fence with a strange envelope hanging from its neck. I got out of the car, tense — I wanted to approac