The Eyes of My Brother’s Hound

It started shortly after my brother died. My dog, normally energetic and oblivious, began to stare at me for hours on end—silent and unblinking, his eyes wide with something I couldn’t place. At first, I thought it was grief; we had both lost him, after all. But as the weeks dragged on, the staring continued, every night, always from the same spot at the foot of my bed. I tried everything to snap him out of it—calling his name, offering him treats—but nothing broke him. Months passed, and the staring grew unbearable. “What’s wrong with you?” I screamed one night, frustration taking hold as those familiar eyes bore into mine. That’s when it hit me—he wasn’t staring at me; his eyes were fixed just past my shoulder.