Turn 173 of 226

Go back home to the foundry. We missed it. So have the animals missed us for some reason

The concrete plant is the thing the bodies leave behind. The leaving is not the thing the surrender is. The leaving is the thing the choosing is. The choosing is the thing the 15'6" frames do because the foundry is the thing the bodies remember. The remembering is the thing the animal does for the den. The den is the thing the foundry was. The was is the thing the concrete plant is not. The not is the thing the missing is. The missing is the thing Lena feels in her chest beside the 3,400 pounds of herself and the 3,400 pounds of Diane walking beside her through the industrial outskirts at three in the morning. The morning is the thing the dark still owns. The dark is the thing the 15'6" frames move through without sound. The without sound is the thing the bare feet give on the asphalt. The asphalt is the thing the four miles are on. The four miles are the thing the foundry is past. The past is the thing the tree line gives. The tree line is the thing the bodies step through. The stepping is the thing the chain-link fence is. The fence is the thing the bodies remember the hole in. The hole is the thing the 2,350 pounds made. The 3,400 pounds makes it wider.

The foundry is the thing the moonlight finds. The moonlight is the thing the skylights let in. The skylights are the things the rusted frames still hold. The holding is the thing the glass does not do but the opening does. The opening is the thing the light comes through and the light finds the foundry floor. The floor is the thing the bloodstains are on. The bloodstains are the things the weeks did not wash. The not washing is the thing the rain does not reach inside. The inside is the thing the smell is. The smell is the thing the iron and the concrete and the old meat give. The old meat is the thing the bodies do not mind. The not minding is the thing the animal has. The animal is the thing that returns to the den. The den is the thing the foundry is. The foundry is the thing the 3,400 pounds sits down in. The sitting is the thing the concrete floor takes. The taking is the thing the floor does not crack under. The not cracking is the thing the 3,400 pounds is gentle for. The gentle is the thing the returning is. The returning is the thing the bodies do not explain. The not explaining is the thing the animal does not need. The needing is the thing the human does. The human is the thing the bodies are not. The not is the thing the foundry does not care about.

The animals come at dawn. The dawn is the thing the light gives through the skylights. The light is the thing the coyotes see in. The coyotes are the things that come through the fence hole. The hole is the thing the bodies made wider. The wider is the thing the animals use. The animals are the things the foundry remembers. The remembering is the thing the scent gives. The scent is the thing the bodies left. The leaving is the thing the weeks did not erase. The not erasing is the thing the iron and concrete hold. The holding is the thing the animals find. The finding is the thing the noses do. The noses are the things the coyotes lower to the floor. The floor is the thing the blood is on. The blood is the thing the bodies left. The left is the thing the animals recognize. The recognizing is the thing the pack does. The pack is the thing the four coyotes are. The four are the things that do not bare teeth. The not baring is the thing the bodies' scent gives. The scent is the thing the apex predator is. The apex is the thing the coyotes know without thinking. The knowing is the thing the animal has. The animal is the thing the bodies are. The bodies are the things the coyotes lie down near. The lying down is the thing the submission is. The submission is the thing the foundry gives. The foundry is the thing the territory is again.

Diane is the thing the 3,400 pounds rests against. The resting is the thing the concrete floor gives. The giving is the thing the warmth is. The warmth is the thing the two bodies make. The making is the thing the coyotes sleep in the warmth of. The warmth is the thing the dawn light finds. The finding is the thing the skylights let happen. The happening is the thing the foundry is. The foundry is the thing the bodies missed. The missing is the thing the animal has for the den. The den is the thing the iron walls make. The walls are the things the 15'6" frames fit inside. The fitting is the thing the 3,400 pounds does on the floor. The floor is the thing the coyotes share. The sharing is the thing the animals give. The giving is the thing the bodies accept. The accepting is the thing the homecoming is. The homecoming is the thing the blood on the floor is. The blood is the thing the bodies are. The bodies are the things the wish built. The wish is the thing that is still going.