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honey, and then a little more. I plopped down onto a bar stool and folded one long leg under me. The lady filled her perfect pie crust with a mixture of berries. It looked delicious, making me wish my mom did cook.
    With my spoon flipped upside down, I slowly licked off the yogurt, imagining what it would be like to come home to the smell of pie baking, when I heard something. Lowering the TV volume, I listened more carefully. Silence fell throughout the house. Even as I strained my ears, I heard nothing. Aiming the remote back at the television, just about to turn up the volume, I heard a loud bang again. It sounded like it came from the backyard.
    Terrified to move, I peered over the bar to see out the back door. The multiple glass panes on our French doors obscured any real view. Reluctantly, I stood and took a few cautious steps toward the door. Halfway there I saw something dark run across the backyard. My heart jumped. A dog. I sighed in relief. Walking the remaining few steps to the door, I looked out noticing two small potted plants knocked over on the patio. Then, I saw a dark brown dog making its way out the open gate.
    Immediately, I thought of my dad. He was infamous for not shutting doors completely. I opened the back door and walked over to the gate. The dog turned to me. I considered petting its shiny, chocolate brown fur but decided against it. If it was a stray, that might be an open invitation to hang around. So instead, I shooed the animal away and closed the back gate making sure the latch fully engaged. I walked back inside, rubbed my bare feet on the door mat then headed back to the bar to finish my snack.
    Just as I finished, my mom came home carrying a small bag of groceries. “Hey, honey,” she said, juggling the groceries and her leather work bag.
    I earned my nickname due to my love of honey since childhood. I couldn’t get enough of it. The sticky, sweet stuff complemented most any food perfectly.
    I stood to help her and grabbed the paper bag peering inside. Nothing good, damn . I set it down and began to empty its contents.
    “Thanks, honey. It’s been such a long day. How was yours?”
    Without hesitation, I thought of Grant.
    “The usual.” I kept my tone neutral. “Oh, I caught some stray dog running around our backyard.”
    My mom’s face fell, and she threw her hand on her hip. “Are you serious? What is the point of paying our homeowners’ association if they aren’t going to do their job?”
    “Maybe it was just lost,” I offered, not thinking it was a big deal. “I’m sure its owner will get home from work and go looking for it when they realize he’s missing.”
    “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right. It’s been a long day.” She walked into the living room. I followed. She flopped down onto the couch, slid off her sensible, black heels and propped her feet up on the coffee table. I sat down on the other couch tucking my legs up to my chest, noticing my mom’s pallor. Stress lined her pale skin and her normally bright eyes were cradled by dark half-moons. She scrubbed her hands over her face then sighed.
    Working for a non-profit was a never-ending job and something someone did for enjoyment not money, which was one of the reasons I wondered how my parents could afford such a large house. They occasionally mentioned some sort of inheritance, but never went into detail, remaining elusive about their past. I had never met either set of my grandparents, but had also come to realize it was a sensitive subject and stopped asking questions.
    My mom leaned her head back causing her shoulder length strawberry blond hair to fall away from her face. I studied her delicate features, amazed at how different she and I were. My long, dark hair seemed severe next to her pale red. Her deep, cobalt blue eyes contrasted with my sea green ones, even more unusual was the yellow starburst in the center of mine. My petite mom only stood five two while I towered over her at five