Someone slowed down. A girl. Teenager, schoolbag slung low. She glanced at him, then dug into her bag. No words, no hesitation. Just a sandwich in a zip bag. She handed it over. Joshua stared at it. “Thanks,” he said quietly. She walked off without waiting.
He looked at the sandwich—thick bread, real ham, neatly wrapped. His stomach twisted. It would’ve been his best meal in days. Maybe weeks. He peeled it open and paused as Lucky sniffed the air and licked his lips. Joshua didn’t think long.
He gave the sandwich to Lucky without a second thought. Just held it out. Lucky devoured it fast. Joshua watched him chew, eyes sharp. He ignored the ache in his gut. His heart swelled seeing Lucky eat, and for now, that was enough.
He leaned back against the pole, empty cup in one hand, stomach rumbling. Lucky curled beside him, licking crumbs from his paws. Joshua kept the cup out, hoping someone would show kindness, but as the world passed by, his hope dimmed with every minute.
He tried to keep from keeling over, stomach tight with emptiness, eyes half-closed as the world blurred around him. In that haze, his mind drifted back—to a cold afternoon outside the soup kitchen, when hunger made every second sharp and stretched.
He’d just received a bowl of soup—watery, but with vegetables and noodles—when someone behind him jostled forward. The bowl tipped, and soup splashed onto the pavement in a wet, steaming mess. He froze, watching it soak into the concrete.
Before he could react, a stray dog trotted over—matted fur, ribs showing, a wild glint in its eyes—and began licking the soup off the ground, tongue working fast like it hadn’t eaten in days. The people in line ignored it. Joshua didn’t. That was the only food he had.
Frustration surged. He turned on the man behind him, voice cracking with cold and anger. “You couldn’t wait your turn?” The man, broad-shouldered and mean-eyed, didn’t take it well. Without a word, he grabbed Joshua by the collar and pulled him forward like he weighed nothing at all.