Rays

The sun feels good. Laying here after a job well done, I noticed just how good it feels. Although dry blood is almost impossible to wash, I can't seem to move from here. The client is spread and organized next to me. Organs in on bag, bones in the other, just like she asked. The job is done, so I think a rest is well at hand. A faint breeze makes the bags rustle a bit. Strangely, it's a pretty soothing sound. It's curious how the most bizarre objects are often origins of life's secret blisses. Like the drop of sweat that just entered my mouth. It ran across my face and picked up a bit of blood along the way. The taste, of course, was disgusting, but for some reason it contains the perfect amount of saltiness. A distant pant comes closer and starts ripping on the bags. I get closer to investigate, worried that the others might've found me. My throat goes in a knot when I see what it is. A stray pup, not two years old, is scavenging through the organ bag looling for food. Although I know I should probably shoo him and protect the client, I can't seem to interefere with such a perfect day. He sees me. Surprised at my sight, he tucks his tail and starts to run away. With my pocket knife, I cut a few of the boneless fingers, then repair the bag. I'm sure the client won't miss them. "Here boy, here here.", I say and succeed at capturing his attention. Slowly, he approches and sniffing my hand, but becomes hesitant to come any closer. To show him I mean no harm, I pop one of the digits into my mouth and signal him to do the same. The taste was horrifying, uncooked fingers are terrible. They have a gelatinous texture and this one even more so for being in a bag for a few hours. But it works. The pup cautiosly takes one and sits in front of me to show a glimpse of trust. While he eats, I stroke his hair and feel the stress evaporate with each pass. I run out of fingers and become worried he'll leave. Fortunenately, he doesn't. With his eyes wide open and a waging tail, the pup sits wanting more. I chuckle. Even if I don't have anymore, he'll stay just for gratefullness. I pick him up, lay down, and put him on my chest. The sun takes me and my worries away with it's sting. I can hear the bags rustling harder, as if calling me to dispose of them. There'll be time for that, for now, the sun and this pup are all that matter.