walkin home from a downtown nite of drinkin and rocknroll and socializin with our friends, and it was warm for december and foggy, christy and i were in the alley behind the chocolate moose ice cream stand.

"hey," christy said, "that's a deer."

it was a deer, a beautiful doe, lying on the wet pavement with her eyes open. majestic and graceful even in death. we felt its body, no longer warm but not yet cold, not yet rigid.

christy found a hole in the back of the doe's neck, a bullet hole. she cried. were the assholes who shot her still around? she cussed the darkness just in case they were there to hear.

i called the cops. the officer's flashlight revealed a cloud of blood in the puddle by the body.