The Dog Who Waited at My Door Every Morning

The next morning, he was there again.

Same spot.

Same paw against the glass.

Same silence.

Like nothing had changed in his world except time.

That was when I stopped thinking it was random.

Dogs don’t sit like that by accident.

They don’t choose one house out of a hundred and return to it like a ritual unless something inside them is still tied there.

I crouched by the door this time.

“Where did you come from?” I asked softly.