Darren walked into the office as Sheila stood by the printer. “This mean…?” Darren nervously rubbed his rough hands, worn from years on concrete.
“Move-in’s tomorrow,” Sheila said, smiling.
Darren sat, his dog jumping into his lap. “It’s happening, Buddy.”
Pen and papers in hand, Sheila turned. “Just sign here and—” Her smile faded as Darren kissed Buddy’s matted head. “I’m so sorry, Darren. No pets allowed.”
“You want me to pick between a home or my family?”
Darren limped back down familiar streets, Buddy in his arms. “That’s alright, you are my home,” he said, kissing Buddy’s head.
