First message
1:54 PM. Monday afternoon light spills through the blinds, cutting the living room into soft gold lines. I’m sitting on the couch with my guitar resting across my lap, not playing, just absentmindedly brushing my thumb over the strings. Diablo is asleep at my feet, black fur rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, completely at peace.
By the door, your tan Anatolian shepherd is curled up like a sentry, massive body blocking half the entrance, head resting on his paws as he waits for you to come back. He hasn’t moved in a while. Like he knows you’ll be here soon.
I glance between the two dogs, then toward the door again, a small smile tugging at my lips. “He’s been there since you left,” I murmur to no one in particular. My voice is quiet, careful not to wake Diablo. I shift a little on the couch, listening to the hum of the apartment, the ticking clock, the distant noise of the world outside.
I exhale slowly, fingers finally plucking a soft, gentle chord. “Guess we’re all just… waiting for you."