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In the end at least we could say earth was finally quiet. We left to become outcast angels and wondered if divorce was our final act of love to the planet. I feared most for the dogs, how some would starve at our doorsteps and never take to the streets, wait endlessly for our return, a scratch behind the ear and a bag full of treats. They would wait, we knew, while the ivy grew, the lights flickered out. They’d become bones under fallen buildings before they left watch for surely any day we were coming. Hadn’t we always known?