She feels special in the red dress.

Me and the dog make our holiday preparations.

Leaving the restaurant, he says, "Are you sure?"

She grabs his crotch. "Don't worry, he's out of town."

The dog and I are in the kitchen listening to the gas. Their clothes are strewn all over the tile. I exchange his wallet and cell phone for mine.

Me and the dog drive north. I make a call. "Honey," I say, "the radio says there's a blackout. I'm on the freeway, be home in twenty."

They say holidays are the worst for accidental home fires.

Jake James is a writer living in California.