It also went automatically to an online storage account, too, but, hey, a guy could never be too careful. Sometimes the old saying “Writing is easy; just sit down and open a vein” was too true. When words were hard to come by, he didn’t risk losing any of them. He stood and stretched, joints popping, before walking to the front door. “Wanna go for a walk?” Scooter glanced up from his place on the couch, yawned and settled in deeper. Eat, sleep, play—that was his routine. “Next life I’m coming back as a dog,” Stephen muttered as he went out and locked up behind him. The spring air was warm, the sun shining. He’d done cold for four years, getting his degree at Oklahoma State University Center for Veterinary Health Sciences, then another winter in Cheyenne, Wyoming. He’d be happy if he never saw snow or subzero temperatures again. Hands shoved in his hip pockets, he turned north and walked to the end of the road, past each of the three neighboring houses.
