Something about the island felt off. He’d just gotten back from the city a week ago. A lot had changed since the holidays. He lost everything. Just about everyone. Or that’s what it felt like. It was a struggle to even feel like he belonged in his own skin at this point. There was the contemplation of not returning to Catalina but he’d gotten far too used to the routine of running when he felt things weren’t fitting and it never got him anywhere. At least the island was a lot smaller than most cities. Usually his ever present optimistic side would tell him, “it’s easier to make connections here. To keep them. We can do this.” But even that voice was silent more often than not these days.
The one plus side of the 39th existential crisis of his life is that he finally took the plunge doing something he’s always wanted. One day being suffocated by the weight of being alone, he decided to hit up the local animal shelter. It took all of ten minutes there to decide on a dog. A new companion. A reason to pull himself out of bed everyday. If it weren’t for the pup, Wolfe would still be entombed in house or worse by this point. But instead here he was at the park just across the street from the beach, coffee in one hand as he sat a picnic table watching gleefully as his new furry friend ran back and forth chasing and retrieving one of the at least 20 toss toys Wolfe purchased for the canine.
The musician is so engrossed with the dog he doesn’t notice when someone sits at the other end of the picnic table. He’s startled when he finally looks over to grab one of his snacks to see a person sitting there. Laughing, he places a hand on chis chest in surprise. “Jesus! How long have you been there?”
