memory

A memory: I'm hopping over a fence in the back yard of our house in Denver. It's the first time I've done this, but I've thought about doing it for a long time. I smell the sun on my skin. I land in a field of dry grass. The field seems out of place like it should be in the country rather than the city. My neighbor's German shepard notices me in the field and barks wildly behind a chain-linked fence. The boy who owns the dog comes out of his house. This is the first time I've seen him. He's pale and too thin and his orange hair is wet with grease. I notice his yard is full of junk. He tells his dog to shut up and then notices me standing in the field. He takes his dog off of its leash. The dog runs to the fence and attempts to climb it. The boy does the same. I see froth spilling from the dog's growling mouth. I run away.