Start by mentioning it as though it were a joke. Push off from this if it helps: a dog that won't look at you.

Maybe you stink of that new detergent again. Or maybe she just smells the lie on you. I saw your hands shaking when you tried to scratch her ear. She's smarter than that. She knows you're the one who came home late and didn't look her in the eye. Don't pretend you care about the dog's opinion when you're the one falling apart. Just sit there. Maybe if you stop talking, the smell of regret will fade. Though I doubt it.

Right, the shop. Don't get snappy with me. I just said the smell lingers, didn't I? It's in the walls, probably. You think switching soap fixes everything? You're the one who needs to stop explaining yourself to a mutt. If the shop ran long, fine. But you walked in like a ghost. She sees the difference between a tired guy and a hollow one. I'm just saying, maybe the dog's the only one who noticed you're still broken.

Three? It's been a while, and since when did you become the bartender? You're projecting your own guilt. You're the one trying to diagnose me while your dog treats you like a stranger. Just because a register didn't balance doesn't mean you're whole. Maybe you're just avoiding looking at what you actually did with those two hours. Or maybe the dog knows you're hiding something you can't even say. Stop deflecting. The dog isn't the problem here.

Fine, you drove home. You didn't steal the money, you didn't burn the place down. Big deal. But you still walked in like you were apologizing to the floorboards. The dog smells the shame, Rafe, not the ledger. You're too busy proving you're innocent to notice you're already guilty of something else. Whatever. Have your clean conscience. I'll just sit here and watch the dog ignore you while I finish this drink.

I'm not circling anything. You're just tired and bitter. You're guilty of being there when she needed you to be someone else, anyone else. It's not a crime, it's just... you're not who she thought you were. Maybe that's why she won't look. Not because of a missing twenty bucks, but because the guy who comes home isn't the one who left. Stop making me say it. It's obvious. Just like you're obvious.

Tuesday, right. Because being tired is just a schedule now. You think marriage fixes that? She didn't marry a shift; she married you. And now you're acting like a stranger who borrowed your own name. Don't try to logic your way out of the fact that you're not here. You're just a body filling the chair. The dog knows the difference between a Tuesday and a ghost, and she's not fooling around with either. You want to be the guy who left? Fine. Stay there. See how long the dog waits.

She's a dog, not a barometer for your soul. Fine. You want straight? You're drowning in that glass, and Carla can smell it. You think a dog ignores you because of a shift? She's just the first thing to notice the silence in you. Carla hasn't said a word about it yet, but she's watching. You're acting like a man who's already left the room. Stop hiding behind the collar. Just admit you're unhappy, even if you can't admit why. Or keep pretending. I'm just the one sitting here watching it rot.

Hating the shape? That's a cute way to put it. You stay in the box because you're scared to see what's outside. You count the drawer, you feed the dog, you kill the lights. It's a ritual, not a life. You think that makes you good? It just makes you a ghost in your own house. You're not staying; you're waiting to rot. Carla knows the difference between a man who stays and a man who just hasn't left yet. You're the latter. Stop pretending the routine saves you. It doesn't.

Don't drag my place into this. I have a roof. It's just a small one, above a laundry mat, and yeah, it's quiet. Quieter than your house, apparently, if the dog's giving you the cold shoulder. You think I'm sneering? I'm just watching you rot in that comfort. You keep the roof up by shrinking yourself until you fit perfectly inside the cracks. That's not stability, Rafe. That's a slow suffocation. And I'm right here, watching you do it, glass in hand, while you act surprised anyone notices.