Clouds covered the sky turning it to smoke and grey is not a nice colour.
I sat in the corner, beneath me a folded cardboard box, watching the cars pass by the alley opening. Beside me lay Destin, his soft ears resting on his head. He too lay upon a box.
This alley ended with a thick brick wall that was around seven metres tall. At the bottom right corner there was a gap, just big enough for Destin, and up the wall every metre or so there was a metal bar embedded into the rust toned bricks. An escape route if necessary.
There was a small crate beside me, inside two cans of beans, a chocolate bar and a can of dog food were stacked. Friendly and caring passers by had given small amounts of food or change to help Destin and I.
As night grew near and the streets calmed down, a police car pulled up at the entrance to the alley, lights flashing red and blue. This was not good. I signalled to Destin and he understood. The man began to walk with a gun in his hand, and then run, towards us.
Destin darted through the hole in the wall and I scrambled up the wall. I touched my feet on the top surface and jumped off into the dark night.
