He saw her coming out of the deli, she smelled like blood-sick and old wounds hiding under her last pair of clothes that didn't have tears in them. He went to her and introduced himself. She gave him a sausage. It was love.
He followed her for the rest of the day, ears pricked forward as he listened to her talk. It was funny how that made her happy. She would say "Piston, sit." And he would sit, stump where his tail should be wagging as she pet him with pale fingers. When she did that, he knew she wasn't blood-sick, she was food for others who were and they nipped at her like he sometimes nipped at the heels of children when they tried to st
