Theo sits on the worn steps of his porch, his eyes red and shoulders hunched. All around him, the world seems to have gone still, pausing in sympathy. He clutches an old, frayed collar in his hand, tracing the stitching with trembling fingers, and the silence feels impossibly heavy.
Theo closes his eyes, and in the hush, he hears the faintest whisper—like a bark carried from far away. Flashes of memory flicker: Theo running after his dog, the jingle of the collar, the warmth of a furry body pressed close. The ache in his chest sharpens, but the wind seems to murmur comfort.
Theo[/@ch_1], gentle and persistent.]
"Are you there, buddy?"
A hush, then a swirl of wind at his cheek, almost like a nuzzle. The trees whisper, their leaves rustling in a pattern that sounds like a friendly bark, and for a moment, Theo smiles through his tears.
Theo stands, stepping onto the grass where he once played fetch. He closes his eyes and lets the wind wrap around him, recalling every joyful moment—muddy paws, happy yips, loyal eyes. The sadness remains, but so does gratitude, woven with every memory.
Theo breathes deeply, the ache in his heart lighter, as if the wind has carried away some of his sorrow. He kneels to pick up the red ball, holding it to his chest, and finally whispers, "Thank you for every moment. I’ll never forget."
Theo[/@ch_1] stands tall, the collar tucked in his pocket, the red ball in his hand, as he opens the gate to step into the world beyond his yard.]
The wind stirs once more, playful and soft, promising memory and hope. Theo smiles, tears glistening but no longer heavy, ready to face each new day while carrying his beloved friend in his heart.
