The clock, striking a late hour, gets shouted down by police sirens.
They bring her out on a blue leash. Immediately, she's on my lap, squirming, sniffing, and sticking her head in my tote bag, where I've tucked away some treats for her.
A toddler stands before a taller doll and interrogates it. The doll, unresponsive, receives a finger to the eye for remaining aloof.
The church has strung together signs on its lawn with slogans that try to demonstrate that it's welcoming (or the preferred word, "inclusive") to anyone who wants to attend. The slogans ring empty, a cut-and-paste job.
Candle wax in multiple colors melts in psychedelic streams and puddles.
The man on the sofa dozes beneath a portrait of an alert military leader.
In the glow of the lamp, a pink bedspread scented with lavender and mint.