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Sitting alone on the curb, I whispered, “I’ll wait quieter next time… I won’t wag my tail when you let me back in.”
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“It’s my dog,” I said softly.
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The busboy watched me with cold disgust and muttered, "If you can't even afford to feed them, you shouldn't have had them in the first place."
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As his own life ebbed away, he smiled anyway, knowing the rhythm of her heart against his bloody chest had already stopped, sparing her from what was coming next.
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So this morning I told her I’d had a nightmare and wasn’t hungry, because I’d rather keep the hunger than carry the guilt of eating her share.
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As everything went dark, I felt him take my hand and whisper, “I’ll stay right here until you wake up.”