The old man finally broke the silence, his voice a fragile thread.
“Thank you,” he said, looking up at me with eyes that held both gratitude and a depth of sorrow I couldn’t comprehend.
I nodded, unsure how to respond.
“It’s nothing,” I replied, knowing it wasn’t true. It was something, even if I didn’t know exactly what.
He stood slowly, the dog mirroring his movements, standing by his side with a loyalty that seemed unbreakable.
“We should go,” he said, though he didn’t move, not yet.
I hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment, the uncertainty of what lay ahead for them.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked again, not quite able to let go.
He gave a small, sad smile.
“We’ll manage,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
I watched them walk away, the man leaning heavily on the dog, each step deliberate and slow, as if they were not just moving through space, but through time, through memories that only they shared.
It was only when they disappeared from view that I turned to leave, the rain now feeling like a companion, a shared experience that bound us, if only for a moment.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
