I am incomplete. The reason I ever wanted to come back home, open the door...has gone from this planet. My Bun, The Bun is dead. He died not in my arms, but alone, in a veterinarians cage. Poked by needles that did him no good. Bruises. Holes. Scars that will never heal. So limp he was a half life, while I held him and kissed his dry lips and whispered in his flopped ear "I love you the most, I love you the most, I love you the most" for the last time. My body doesn't know how to feel, I've left something behind. The gas is on, the water is running....no, no, no. My reason, my tangible soul is nowhere. I may never dream again.