Logan and Po’boy are having some conversation on the other side of the street.
A fairly heated discussion, to be sure, though not necessarily escalating into argument territory.
Logan, still making his case as the older boy remains quiet, perhaps checking the bushes for bones, (I don’t know, I’m all the way back here, how could I see?) mouthy and insistent, bright and bold. His strategy works; Po’boy interjects a few half-hearted *woofs* then a few more, weaker, then quiets.
The neighborhood is quiet, save for the low hum of the recycling plant on the edge of the city, varied bird calls (the only one I know for sure is the crow atop the tree two yards over), and a few passing cars.
Po’boy renews his half of the conversation with confidence and vigor, however, Logan is nowhere to be heard.
Five more inquisitive barks from Po’boy, then three more.
Then silence.
The Salty Widow 