"I think I found your dog. Is he yours?"
( icebreaker starters )
it seems more than one person had seen him feeding the stray. he’s starting to regret doing it–at least, that’s what he tells himself. “no, he’s not.” his voice is as curt as it was the last time but he doesn’t turn away again. in fact it’s as if he’s speaking to the dog, the way his eyes are fixed on the creature. “i think he’s a stray,” he says, mostly to himself, as he checks for the 9th time for a collar that’s not there. he can’t think of a lie to tell himself as to why he wants to be so sure.
silence drifts into the conversation and he uses the pause to muster a courage he didn’t have the last time he saw the pup. he hesitates a moment before letting a clammy hand pet the small creature on the head, only to pull away when his fingers catch in a clump of dirt in its fur. a smile unwittingly brightens his features when the dog nuzzles up to his hand.
