I am going to tell you everything: I have a house in every country. I have a dog in each one of my houses. The houses do not have roofs. What are they, exactly? It is a region without water. Naturally, it’s worse here. You see the blue areas? It’s different in the islands. I am from the west. My city is some kilometers from the coast. We don’t have food, but at least we have water. I cannot live without water.
            Do you know me? You are new in the neighborhood. Do I want to live here? I don’t know what to think. I hate my neighbors. My sister loves me. My parents do not love her. She always knew. My sister thinks that it’s her. She took a knife. Then, my sister insisted: It was the knife that did it, not me. My sister is famous. She is in the prison. It’s a bad road. I think of her. She does not remember who I am. She cannot feel this.
            Yesterday, I touched a bird. I am almost another person. You do not touch animals. You touch me a lot. You always pay. It is giving and receiving. You never loved me. I want you, but not much. I love you, but not a lot. We didn’t play well yesterday. We were not friends. Are we a couple? Are you a victim? What is a revolution? Can we resolve this or not?
            The cats drink anything, from milk to beer. They left this by the door. It's not simply a belt. It is not necessarily a person. It is mainly fish. I consider it an animal. Probably it’s a monkey. It’s impossible to know. You denied everything. The judge looks for clues.  I have an enemy. I have a witness. These weapons are legal.
            Are you going to be at your house tomorrow? Are you alone? I have to speak to you.  Currently, it’s like this: You and I go together. I stand in the street. I die alone. I cannot die. I am going to discover a country. We see ourselves. Anything can happen. 

Caitlin Horrocks is author of the story collection This Is Not Your City. Her work appears in The New Yorker, The Best American Short Stories, The PEN/O. Henry Prize Stories, The Pushcart Prize, The Paris Review, Tin House, and elsewhere. She is fiction editor of The Kenyon Review and lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan.