11. Animal
London was filthy once the sun set. Sure, it was dirty in the light, too. But like all large cities, the worst side of it was exposed, like the underside of an old cinderblock being flipped over to reveal the decay and filth beneath it.
Arthur felt he could disappear in this filthy, unseen side of London. It was what he really wanted, to be nothing and no one, to melt into the brickwork and never be seen again.
Bloody comittments.
Stopping to lean against the building corner, Arthur rubbed his eyes fitfully. What time was it anyway...? It was far too dark to see his watch, his mobile had a dead battery, and of course the shittiest part of the city had no public clocks in working order. 'Fuck my life,' he thought to himself, kneading his face with the palms of his hands.
It had been a long time since he'd learned to stop and just listen. Oftentimes, his greatest epiphanies appeared while listening to the wind blow, or the rain fall. Other times, though, all he heard was the sound of his clothes getting soaked, as they were now.
He'd almost reached the crosswalk when the saddest, most pathetic sound reached his ears. It was a sound he could identify with - painful, despondent, as though the whole world were crushing it under its heel. It was the sound of a puppy crying.
Coat flapping in the wind behind him, Arthur turned, kneeling near the building corner, peering down the alleyway as he tried to find the source. The box had an inch and a half of water in by the time he found it in the rain. The mangled remains of a "free to good home" sign wilted pathetically down one side, and the creature inside was a thousand times worse off. It was wet, cold, visibly shaking, and Arthur felt his heart break for the second time that day as he offered a hand to the tiny thing.
Nosing at him, the puppy mewled again before pressing itself against Arthur's warm hand, and despite himself, Arthur smiled a little. There was still unconditional love in the world, it seemed, and maybe if the rain could hide his tears for a little longer, he'd be able to return it.
"C'mon, boy," he murmured, gently picking up the tiny, ragged ball of fur. "Let's go home. Goodness knows I have more than enough room." Fruit-bat ears tickled the underside of his chin before a warm puppy kiss planted itself on his cheek, and Arthur felt himself start to heal a little.
Arthur felt he could disappear in this filthy, unseen side of London. It was what he really wanted, to be nothing and no one, to melt into the brickwork and never be seen again.
Bloody comittments.
Stopping to lean against the building corner, Arthur rubbed his eyes fitfully. What time was it anyway...? It was far too dark to see his watch, his mobile had a dead battery, and of course the shittiest part of the city had no public clocks in working order. 'Fuck my life,' he thought to himself, kneading his face with the palms of his hands.
It had been a long time since he'd learned to stop and just listen. Oftentimes, his greatest epiphanies appeared while listening to the wind blow, or the rain fall. Other times, though, all he heard was the sound of his clothes getting soaked, as they were now.
He'd almost reached the crosswalk when the saddest, most pathetic sound reached his ears. It was a sound he could identify with - painful, despondent, as though the whole world were crushing it under its heel. It was the sound of a puppy crying.
Coat flapping in the wind behind him, Arthur turned, kneeling near the building corner, peering down the alleyway as he tried to find the source. The box had an inch and a half of water in by the time he found it in the rain. The mangled remains of a "free to good home" sign wilted pathetically down one side, and the creature inside was a thousand times worse off. It was wet, cold, visibly shaking, and Arthur felt his heart break for the second time that day as he offered a hand to the tiny thing.
Nosing at him, the puppy mewled again before pressing itself against Arthur's warm hand, and despite himself, Arthur smiled a little. There was still unconditional love in the world, it seemed, and maybe if the rain could hide his tears for a little longer, he'd be able to return it.
"C'mon, boy," he murmured, gently picking up the tiny, ragged ball of fur. "Let's go home. Goodness knows I have more than enough room." Fruit-bat ears tickled the underside of his chin before a warm puppy kiss planted itself on his cheek, and Arthur felt himself start to heal a little.