The door to the cab was hanging open in the heat, and the dog had escaped her tether and she was pushing at his arm and his chest, as if that might make it better. Unaware of the parking lot, of staring eyes, Hunter used the door to haul himself up to standing without really seeing what he was doing. Hunter curled up again after getting mostly into the front seat, in the shelter of the familiar musty cab. Yes, he'd left, he'd left, and he couldn't even be sorry, was that why this happening to him? Because he wasn't sorry, because he wouldn't go back even to make it better for them? Because he didn't deserve to have siblings at all?