𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

00 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: alleway

𝘼 𝙇 𝙇 𝙀 𝙔 𝙒 𝘼 𝙔

              WALKING DOWN THE DIM ROAD, looking for the dog you had sheltered for the past three weeks, glancing your eyes from left to right, looking back then ahead to recheck. The dog isn't tiny either, he was quite a large pup but too thin for his size and you know he always somehow gets out of the house at night, and though you know he will come back in the morning, you can't help but still worry for that dog.

Just from the left alleyway, where the lights' blinker is obviously struggling in its estimated useful life with how it flashes from white to yellow to dim. But you can make out a figure of a man in a coat, crouched in front of a dog and it seems like he's very fond of him as he is petting him.

You fail to make any features out of the man, mostly with your far-sighted astigmatism, it gets quite annoying but you know that the dog he's petting is yours. He looks exactly like yours because he's losing one leg but that doesn't stop him from being so energetic.

You cross the road to approach the man petting your dog. You wonder what got the man to wake up at midnight, not a lot of people take their strolls when it comes to this hour, especially with the occurring news of 4 missing women.

It should've worried you and it's not like you can certainly handle yourself. Somehow, you just like it. You can't stop yourself from lurking in the dark; you have not witnessed nor heard any sort of screams or blood.

"Hello." You call out once you're close enough, putting your hands in your pants pockets. "I hope he didn't cause too much trouble. He always roams around at midnight and it's a hassle to get him back."

The man chuckles in retort and looks at you, he was in a mask but once you see those eyes, you felt your heart drop. "He's your dog?" He asks, not meaning to sound rude but his voice was a little more monotone than you'd expect.

He was about to stand up until you stop him, "No, please. Keep petting him, he loves those. Sorry to interrupt."

He snorts, "Sure." He crouches back down and starts rubbing his hands on the dog's under chin, resulting in the sheltered dog leaning into his hand. But as he pets him, he looks at you, his eyes observing you the same way you were observing him.

He grins under his mask. He has always seen you in the street, not once did he expect to meet you like this – or perhaps he does. In fact, he knew that the sheltered dog was yours. "So... what's his name?" He asks, eyes still staring back at yours.

Not feeling shy, you smile back, "He doesn't have a name. He's a sheltered dog and I only call him by saying 'c'mere.'"

"So his name is 'c'mere?" Though with a mask, you grin at the playful glare he's giving you. You shake your head, dismissing that idea.

"No, no. He really has no name."

"Why not name him? Is he a new pup? He seems a little more full for a newly sheltered dog." He says as he looks back at the dog and examines the dog's weight just to confirm that this sheltered dog was indeed much thinner back then. You can still see his ribs but thanks to you, he has a little more belly than the other stray dogs he's seen.

"I guess I like him that way, it's more freeing and funny that way. He's a dog, not a human. And plus, I think it's cool that he doesn't have a name."