By Genevieve Leanne Dominguez
“We’re almost there,” I said. Gem wriggled in my arms, but I held her tight. I used to sit by the window with her on my lap, amazed at how the sunlight revealed the different colors that made up her golden-brown fur—though, lately, I had noticed the streaks of white on her body spreading.
A cool wind ruffled my hair as I climbed up the hill. When we reached the top, I gasped at the sight below. Fields of flowers stretched towards the horizon with a clear path laid out in the center. It led to a small bridge and a large fenced-in area where dogs raced and jumped high. A woman stood tall in front of the bridge, as if she were guarding it.
Gem whined and placed her head on my shoulder. I stroked the top of her head and began to walk.
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