EverythingSings on Nostr: right, the way stopping here feels right. Zan trots back to him and presses its head ...

right, the way stopping here feels right.

Zan trots back to him and presses its head against his leg. The shell is warm, almost hot from the sun. The fur beneath is cool and impossibly soft.

"Okay, Zan. What now?"

The dog has no answer. Neither does he, really. But for the first time in days, the question doesn't feel urgent. He has water. He has sun. He has something that might be a friend.

The rest can wait.

---

He spends the afternoon