Woke up this morning, started the laundry, mentally planning out my day — yardwork, paint the kitchen, read comic books…

Opened the front door to put a letter in the mailbox. A odd discolored lump on the front lawn caught my eye. It was a rabbit, a large gash in his side, torn open and flyblown in the grass.

I’d seen him a lot over the past few weeks late at night, running here and there. I thought of him as my rabbit and it made me happy to see him out under the moon (under Inle, I suppose I should say). Never for more than a few moments, but he was often there. A quick movement on the grass, running across the sidewalk, across the street.

I’d liked him, the idea of having a rabbit out there in the night — always assumed he was male, a lonely