Silver is the dog stray, his age was a blur, lost in the relentless cycle of survival. Today, whatever number of years he had clocked, it was a day like any other. No one cared that it was his birthday.
He remembered a time, a distant memory, when he had a home. A warm hearth, the comforting scent of humans, and the gentle pat of a hand. But that was a lifetime ago. Now, his world was defined by empty stomachs, cold nights, and the constant threat of danger.
The city was a harsh mistress, offering little in the way of compassion. People hurried past, their eyes fixed on the ground, oblivious to the life that existed on its fringes. He was a shadow, a fleeting image in the minds of those who noticed him at all.
As the day wore on, a sense of despair washed over him. He watched as people walked their dogs, their laughter and joy a stark contrast to his solitary existence. He longed for a simple touch, a kind word, a moment of connection. But the world was indifferent.
As night fell, Silver found a quiet spot beneath a bridge. The city lights were a distant, cold beauty, offering no warmth or comfort. He curled into a ball, his body trembling from cold and exhaustion. In the darkness, he dreamt of a home, of a family, of a life filled with love. But when he woke, reality was a harsh slap in the face.
Another day had passed, another birthday marked by solitude. Silver was a survivor, a creature defined by resilience. Yet, in the depths of his weary heart, a flicker of hope remained. Perhaps, just perhaps, tomorrow would be different.
