The Dog Run Away
The dog ran away…again.
It was the third time since I found him. He just goes out searching.
Smelling the dead bodies that cross his path, and are spread all over the street.
Each time I say to myself I won’t go after him. But who am I trying to fool?
I find myself opening my front door and entering the numbing silence of the outside.
Navigating through a sea of corpses, I manage to avoid contact. But unable to protect myself against the smell, I increase my pace. And so, my dog finding quest begins… One more time.
I need the walk anyway. Or that’s what I like to believe.
It helps me divert my attention from what’s happening right now. Allowing me to wander on the memories of what was before all this. Before the pain, the screaming and the stillness.
I still wonder why I was spared from this. Though to me, this is more like a punishment than a reward. So at the end, I stopped looking for answers.
After all, what’s the worth of knowledge if you can’t share it?
Several minutes have passed. Stumbling on corpses and ignoring their twisted grin, I go around a corner and there he stands. Guarding the remains of what once was a little girl, and waiting for a miracle. Waiting for the slightest proof that his journey was worth it.
He could sit there for hours. Until fatigue gets the best of him and falls asleep.
Somehow I’m jealous… I wish I was so naive. I wish I could still hope for something.
I would have left him there… If I didn’t feel so alone.
At the end, I pick up the dog and carry him back home. On our way home, I look at him in my arms, and a question finds its way out of my mouth:
Will you go looking for me when I’m gone?
