ashrafkhuboni
Sometimes love doesn't arrive with fireworks.
Sometimes it comes on four legs, carrying a tennis ball.
In The Man, The Poodle, and I, a quiet morning walk turns into the beginning of something unexpected. A familiar stranger, a loyal poodle, and a small moment that gently reopens a door that had once closed.
This short story is part of an ongoing love-series about fleeting connections, soft returns, and the people we meet again when timing finally feels right.
Tender, observant, and filled with unspoken emotion, this is a story about noticing... and being noticed.
More dates, more stories, and more quiet magic are still to come.