Underneath the Tree


I hold the dead guinea pig in my hands
Comet, who was Stardust before we realized she was a he
Limply in my hands
“He wasn’t in pain.”
“How can you tell?”
“See how he’s stretched out not curled up?”
I cry as I place him in a decorated shoebox
We dig the hole in the backyard
The ground is soft as I lower the box
He left behind his snow white baby
We name him Marshmellow
He dies within the next year

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