I had a little girl who looked much like Ilma. She'd sit on my shoulders as I'd drive slowly down the street in my top-down car in the pouring rain. We both loved going under the streetlights, where the streams of rain were particularly heavy and they smattered against our heads.
I had a little boy who liked to play with small toy cars. We'd play out on country dirt roads, where we'd meet another family who were less fortunate than us. I didn't want that to stop my boy from making friends so I wanted them to play with their cars together, only my boy wasn't there, so instead it was me playing with their dirty boy, like some sort of placeholder.
They had an angry, mostly black German shepard who jumped and snapped it's jaws at me. I'd chosen to wear fancy driving gloves just to get a little protection. When I complained about it (or told my son who wasn't there to be careful), the mother of the less fortunate family was quick to point out that my cat was killing all the foxes.
I wanted us to leave their house and kept talking to my boy who wasn't there about how we had to go around the upper floor and close the doors for their dog. As we came around to the stairs I went up on the railing, as the dog was jumping below, trying to bite at me.
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