Joshua was asleep when a scream ripped through the night, sharp and panicked. His eyes snapped open. Lucky shot upright beside him, ears pricked. Joshua blinked into the dark, adrenaline surging fast. That wasn’t a drunk shouting, nor a couple arguing. That was danger.
He got up quickly, grabbed his bag, and crouched low. “Quiet,” he whispered to Lucky, holding a finger up. Lucky froze, tense and alert. Another voice echoed faintly—muffled, male, aggressive. Joshua squinted toward the alley across the street. It was dark. Too dark. But something was happening there.
He crossed carefully, each step silent against the wet pavement. Lucky padded beside him, eyes sharp. Joshua edged to a dumpster at the alley’s mouth and peeked around. What he saw next made his blood run cold…
Joshua crouched behind the café, rifling through trash bags with numb fingers. The smell hit hard—old meat, spoiled sauce—but he didn’t flinch. He knew what he was looking for. Lucky sat close, tail wagging, watching every move like a hawk. His hope made Joshua move faster.
Joshua never thought he’d end up here. He’d had a family, a home, a job he loved. Then a car accident—a life-changing one—took it all. His wife, his sense of security, even the roof over his head. The world moved on while he froze in grief. Now, years later, it was just him and Lucky, scraping by.
He found a crumpled paper bag with half a sandwich inside. Bread soggy, meat dried out, but food. He checked for mold, ready to share. But the back door slammed open. The manager stepped out, scowling, already reaching for his phone. Joshua didn’t wait.
He grabbed his bag, whistled once. Lucky bolted beside him. They ran—not full speed—just fast enough to vanish before anyone could chase. They’d been chased before. Once the cops get involved, food disappears, warnings follow. Or worse. He wasn’t sticking around to find out.
They didn’t stop until two blocks away. Breath ragged, chest burning, he dropped near a lamppost. The street pulsed around him—cars speeding, people moving fast with purpose. He held out his cup, head low. A minute passed. Nothing. Five. Still nothing.
Joshua glanced down. Lucky wagged his tail, giving him that open-mouthed, goofy-dog look. No judgment. No shame. Just loyalty. Joshua reached out and scratched behind his ears. “At least you think I matter,” he muttered. It came out dry. Tired.