I saw the patch first.
Veteran.
Then I saw the dog.
Curled tightly against his chest, as if trying to disappear into him, or maybe protect him from the cold. Its ribs showed through its fur. Its eyes were alert—not aggressive, just… aware. Like it had learned that the world could change in an instant.
I looked away.
Because that’s what you do.
You tell yourself you’re busy. That you’re late. That someone else will stop. That kindness is something you’ll get to later—when life feels easier, when money isn’t tight, when you’re not already carrying more than you can handle.
But then he shivered.
Not dramatically. Not loudly.
Just enough.
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