She backed over my cat. She said it was by accident, she said she was sorry. She was crying, some sort of something that looked like crying at least. She said how terrible she felt, how horrible it was, how he didn't suffer, how she'd make it up to me.
It wasn't even that that bothered me. Of course it did, of course, it bothered me, my cat, my friend. But I was never part of any burial. He was under the dirt by the time I got home. No time for inspection, no time for goodbye. It wasn't her job to kill him, but that was an accident. The burial she did on purpose, and that wasn't her job either. And that's what I'd never forgive her for.
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