The rain had been falling since dawn, thin and cold, turning the narrow streets into long gray mirrors. Cars rushed past in restless lines, tires hissing against wet asphalt. Shop doors opened and closed. People hurried forward with umbrellas lowered, eyes fixed on their destinations. In the middle of this moving world, something small and broken struggled to survive.
A stray dog stumbled out from between two abandoned buildings.
His fur was soaked and matted with dirt. His ribs showed through his thin sides like fragile branches beneath torn fabric. But what stopped the few who noticed him—what froze the breath in their throats—was his face.
A dirty piece of cloth was tied tightly around his head.
It covered his eyes completely.
The knot was thick and cruel, pulled so tight that the skin around it was swollen. He could not see the street. He could not see the cars. He could not see the humans passing only a few steps away. He could only hear chaos and feel fear.
