The Cheesewring – by Campbell Andersen

When it first happened, I blamed her. I wanted to act out some sort of rage – whether it was just throwing a spoon or making a fist-sized hole in one of her canvases, something obviously reactive and stupid, although no less satisfying – but we were crying and distraught and so I held her and said the words she wanted. We made a community Facebook post (pleading for information, offering a small reward) and I drove around at night shouting the dogs’ names out the window …