I wanted to write a story about a dog. I wanted to write this because it was an ethical dilemma and I thought that perhaps I had found the answer to it. All things that are consenting. As long as you cause no harm.
The problem being that harm sometimes takes a while to show its stain. The immediacy is nothing. The long term hurt seeps out like bruising, colouring the skin later. We look at the stain of it and wonder, how did I do that to myself?
I did that to myself. I did it to you as well.
Maybe I won't write that story about a dog. Maybe I won't write about the dilemmas that I think I have solved. Maybe instead, I will write about the fingerprints we have left on each other, the way we shy away from certain situations, the spontaneous flinching. Maybe I will write about damage, because there is no way for us to rest side by side, holding hands without inflicting some kind of inevitable pain.