ADSactly Fiction: May We Never Lack A Best Friend

in fiction •  4 years ago 


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May We Never Lack A Best Friend

The man felt diminished inside; he was carrying a backpack of faded cloth on his shoulders. He put everything he could find into the backpack: almost everything was waste that became his only possessions and trophies. Among the rubbish were many pieces of paper, cardboard, crumbs of food or bread, and the odd empty bottle he had found. Lost, languid eyes were dipped in the asphalt, in the garbage piled up on dirty corners, in the gutters at the edges of the sidewalks. His eyes were already used to looking at the sad, forgotten and broken, so it was easy that that day his eyes met that starving dog with a long brown tail. And his eyes for the first time in a long time laughed:

_Come here, Brown! -he said, snapping his fingers.


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The animal, so unaccustomed to affection, looked at him long and reluctantly. Then he came closer as the animals come closer, hungry for affection. The man ran his hand through the long fur and rubbed his ear. The dog licked the man's hand and turned to the man's. The two of them, tired from so much walking, sat down on the first pavement they found that was clear. There the man put his sack on the ground while still stroking the dog. The animal saw him and closed his eyes, also tired like the man, lay down at his feet.

The man opened his bag full of treasures and took out half a loaf of bread that had been given to him in the morning outside a supermarket. He brought one part to the dog and the other part he took for himself. The afternoon was a light consumed in the city; from the sidewalk, the man sitting in a corner looked at hurried legs passing by without stopping. The man's dimmed eyes closed at times and opened again in expectation of something. Sitting with his feet shrunken and Brown licking his hand, he breathed in and out of the pile of truth. He was there, but there was no place for him in the world. His memories wandered aimlessly: he knew neither days nor months nor years. Nor did he know about people, friends or family.


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The night was coming and the noise of the cars was diminishing. For a long time the lonely sidewalks had been spaces full of filth and hunger. Some people had stood on the poles and started rummaging through the garbage. The man approached the stacked, open bags. Brown also approached. There was no dirt to stop the morsel, nor was there any sediment on the edges of the bottles. Like vultures, all the people of the night and of the street threw their hands in search of the best portion, the least sour, the most whole. When the bags were empty and the few scraps that were left lay scattered in the gutters and on the asphalt, the man and Brown went back to the corner to sit on the sidewalk.


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When they returned, the man's hands and the dog's snout carried food scraps. There, in the middle of the sidewalk and at night, they distributed the loot of food without pettiness and without hurry. After eating them both equally, the man began to stroke the dog's back and with gentle massages he scratched the dog's skin. Skeletal, weak hands were the picture of a forgotten God. The man smiled as he looked at the dog:

_You were very hungry, Brown. I saw that you were very hungry," said the man as he smiled and tried to keep his eyes open.

_You're skinny and sick, Brown. Skinny and sick... he said as he did when he took a last breath and made an echo.

_Good thing you're with me, Brown. Good thing you found me - and in the middle of the night, they closed their eyes, both of them.

I hope you enjoyed the reading. Until the next smile.

Written by: @nancybriti



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