I followed him.
I don’t fully know why.
Something in me just needed to know where he went.
I kept enough distance that he wouldn’t notice me.
At least, I hoped he wouldn’t.
He crossed the road outside the cemetery and continued down the sidewalk.
I expected him to wander.
He didn’t.
He moved with total purpose, never hesitating at a single turn, cutting through streets I didn’t recognize, past a shuttered gas station, down a narrow alley behind a row of houses I’d never had a reason to drive past before.
More than once, I considered turning around.
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered.
I was a grown woman following a stray dog through unfamiliar streets on a Sunday afternoon.
But every time I slowed down, the dog kept moving.
And something about the certainty in his steps pulled me after him.
The neighborhood gradually changed.
