He was still standing there, in the bright orange sunset, his face veiled by the glaring light.
The same as he always was.
The sun shining through his large rounded ears. Refracting into a million points of brilliant light in his tan fur.
Three more hours. 150 more miles. One more stop at the gas station. And I would be in his arms. We would be together. Finally.

I drop the photo back into my wallet.

It's still cold outside. My breath condenses in the chill of the morning air as I leave the motel and walk to my car.
I had nearly forgotten how cold the desert gets at night.

I start the motor and pull out of the parking lot. Burnside, 150 miles.