I was back home, in the country, surrounded by miles of emptiness. It was night. I was walking my dog along the fence-line. There was a large moon in the sky, supplying light. From the corner of my eye, I saw someone moving. I was afraid of thugs or thieves or gangs. But my dog wagged his tail in friendship. He jumped up on the stranger who greeted him warmly.
“Down, dog, DOWN!” I shouted, hoping that the stranger wouldn’t take offense. But he petted my dog, scratched him behind the ears, and in all ways acted civilly.
He said, “I can’t believe that she’s really gone.”
Suddenly it dawned on me that, yes, indeed, she was really gone. And that this man was no stranger. A woman walked out of the house, onto the back porch near us, and I recognized her as my close relative: sister, cousin, aunt, niece, I don’t know which. The dread increased.
Suddenly switch to a man driving along the road next to the house. He follows the curves up the hills into the mountains.