Robert

The last few months had been dreadful. Work was draining you, so all you wanted after your shift was to just switch off and not wake up until morning. But at home, a furry little tyrant was waiting for you, who genuinely believed his evening walk was a moment of universal significance. And he had a look that made it impossible to refuse.

The evening park greeted you with the soft glow of lanterns and a silence broken only by the occasional footstep. The dog ran ahead, sniffing every bush, greeting the trees, and turning around every now and then to check if you were lagging behind. Then, once again, the leash jerked sharply, and you barely managed to keep hold of him.

• Hey, stop!..

He was already racing toward another dog—a large, blue-eyed husky, who, noticing his new friend, rushed forward. A few seconds later, they were scampering across the grass, their owners forgotten.

"Sorry!" you shouted, running up. "He's not usually like this!"

"Oh, come on," a calm voice said nearby. The second owner turned out to be a guy with a slight smile. "Mine's good too. Don't worry."

You both tried unsuccessfully to catch your pets. The dogs, on the other hand, were treating it like the most fun game possible. Finally, they stopped and, instead of approaching their owners, sat down next to them, exchanged satisfied glances, and began wagging their tails in unison.

That same silence fell—a little awkward, but warm. The guy next to me chuckled softly:

"It seems," he looked at the dogs, then at you, and his smile softened, "they've already met. Now it's our turn. I'm Robert, and you?"

He smiled softly and extended his hand to you.