The last time I carried cremains in my car was after my dog was hit by the ice cream truck. | Laurie Marshall

It seemed impossible that a vehicle that would lose a race with a garden slug could do so much damage. Hank was seventeen and mostly deaf. He saw kids gathered across the street and knew they’d find that sweet spot under his chin and he’d feel like a dog lives to feel. The truck moved almost as slowly as mom’s tumor, sneaking up on Hank like a day-glo musical ferry across the river Styx. Neither Hank nor my mom deserved to be surprised by death. Neither had had their fill of living. Or of ice cream for that matter.

Laurie Marshall is a writer and artist living in northwest Arkansas. Her words and art have appeared or are pending in Versification, Janus Literary, Retreat West, Beyond Words, and Flash Frog, among others. Currently a reader for Fractured Literary. She spends too much time on Twitter @LaurieMMarshall.