Jean had spun my minor hip injury into a dramatic fracture, and Mr. Dupont had granted me a week's leave - right before the office holiday party.
On my second day off, I returned from the hospital, clutching a prescription for more pain meds and instructions to rest as much as possible.
As I trudged my way back to the apartment, immediately after I was done basking in the afterglow of some incredible carolers on the street, I thought of Jean and her dingy, cluttered place that almost maimed me for life. Thankfully, she lived there alone, not with Ymani. It turned out Jean had lost custody of Ymani years ago, but they still did some form of co-parenting, in the most unconventional way she knew how.
The wind picked up suddenly, snowflakes swirling around me, almost blurring my vision. I shivered, desperate for the warmth of a cozy mug of hot cocoa.
I reached the front of my apartment building, and that's when I heard it-a distant bark.
Instantly, Brutus came to mind. The last time I'd seen him was that day I followed him to Theodore.
The bark echoed again, that same high-pitched yip that belonged to Brutus. Without hesitation, I spun on my heel, and there he was, standing there, tail wagging like crazy, barking up a storm.
"Brutus! What's up, boy? It's freezing out here. Go home." I shooed.
But Brutus persisted, his barks urgent. He edged forward, as if urging me to follow him. I squinted against the icy wind.
"You want to show me something, huh? Can't it wait till tomorrow when it's not, like, minus two degrees?"
He barked back at me, a clear protest, and then took off. "Brutus!" My instincts kicked in-I followed him, my breath visible in the frosty air.
𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.
I hustled past the antique shop and the ATM machine, rounding the corner. It was freezing, and I dashed after Brutus as if I'd lost my own dog in this icy weather. The funny thing was, I didn't even know who owned Brutus.
"Slow down, Brutus! My hip...ow..." I hollered, but that little mutt just kept chugging along with his stubby legs. He trotted across the zebra crossing and darted through the same narrow alley where I'd trailed him before. Finally, I reached the rear of the old building and caught sight of Brutus. He stood next to a dumpster, yapping at someone on the other side.
As I approached, I glanced up at the window where Theodore had sat last time, strumming his guitar. This time, though, the window was shut. Must be snuggled up in his bed by now.
I cautiously approached the dumpster, taking slow, careful steps.
At first, I thought I saw a lump of trash, but then I realized it was a person huddled up, their shoulder visible from behind. I crept closer, my eyes fixed on the figure. They were sitting with their face buried in their chest, their arms wrapped tightly around their body, and their hair cascading down, snowflakes delicately balanced on the brown strands. Standing beside Brutus, I surveyed our surroundings. We were the only ones crazy enough to be out in this biting weather.
"Excuse me?" I called out, but the person didn't lift their head.
Brutus barked at them, and finally, they looked up.
It was Theodore. His well-structured nose had turned a reddish hue. His cheeks glistened, and when he spotted me, he frowned.
"What do you want?" he snapped, sniffling. He rubbed his runny nose with the back of his hand, then looked down at Brutus who barked happily and spun in circles.
YOU ARE READING
The Rhythm Of Rescue
RomanceWhen a mischievous dog leads Casey to a struggling songwriter, she must choose between her peaceful life and a chaotic chance at love and creativity. *** Casey has made a conscious decision to avoid drama in her...