Marked by Instinct: No Clean Return - by Diana Piner

The driveway stayed empty after the car left. Marta remained on her knees in the hallway, jacket discarded, the animal’s tongue still wet at the base of her spine. She had told her brother the papers were taking longer. She had not called him back. She had come for the title documents and the money that would finish the hospital balance. The house was derelict, the buyer waiting. The animal had been there from the first afternoon, watching from the doorway, then closer, breath on her wrist, flank against her thigh. She had locked the doors and kept sorting. She had almost pushed free the first time it drove her to the wall. She had not. The knot locked. She stayed. Each return made leaving cost more. The musk clung after she washed. The bruise darkened on her thigh. When she walked to the car with the keys in her fist the animal stood in the gravel and watched. She closed the door and went back inside.