"You know they train dogs to stop pissing on the fucking floor by shoving their face in their own mess," she snarled last night, glaring and glaring with pale eyes that burn you, and you dutifully shriveled under it, hot and tight-throated, shame eating like heartburn.
And you couldn't say you know the right way to train dogs is to give them attention when they do things right, so they don't act out to get their needs met—
The cold skin of a breakfast plum dimples under your teeth, and you contemplate, for one more breath, just putting them back.