Page 8 of Sawyer
The sky was clear, dotted with stars—a much better view than the smog-filled skies of the city where I used to live. For once, I decided to take the long way home, passing by the park.
The park was quiet, with only a few people scattered about. The scent of autumn leaves filled the air.
Up ahead, a couple sat on a bench, lost in conversation. Not wanting to intrude, I veered off onto another path, pulling my scarf tighter as the wind picked up.
This path wasn’t as well-lit, but the stillness around me felt peaceful. It was quieter here, and oddly enough, that made me feel more comfortable.
Suddenly, I heard a sharp rustle of leaves behind me. It wasn’t the usual rustling one would expect from the wind—this was faster, like someone—or something—was moving through the underbrush.
My heart skipped a beat. I glanced left, then right, but saw nothing.
The sound grew louder, closing in. Panic surged through me, and I bolted toward the nearest lamppost.
Just as I reached the light, I felt a weight on my leg.
My heart leapt into my throat, and a loud, high-pitched shriek rang out—one I didn’t want to admit came from me.
I pressed a hand to my chest, rubbing it to calm myself. Ireallyneeded to lay off those late-night crime shows.
I hesitated, not sure what I’d find when I looked down. Slowly, I opened my eyes and peeked—only to see something long and brown nuzzling my leg and licking at my shoe.
“Benny!" I exclaimed.
I bent down, and the little dachshund immediately rolled onto his back, presenting his belly for a rub. I chuckled and obliged, giving him a rub as he let out a happy whine.
I took out my water bottle and poured some into my hand. Benny lapped it up quickly. I picked him up, scratching behind his ears as I scanned the park.
"Where did you come from, buddy?" I asked, glancing in the direction Benny had come from.
That’s when I saw him—a man sprinting toward us, breathing hard.
Judging by the situation, this guy was probably Benny’s new owner.
I knew Benny was microchipped, but I had to give the guy credit for chasing after him instead of waiting for a call.
He finally reached us, panting and leaning against the lamppost. I took a small step back to give him space.
People always say dog owners look like their dogs. Or was it the other way around?
Either way, this guy lookednothinglike Benny.
Where Benny was small, a little chubby, with round eyes that were always eager for attention, this guy was tall, muscular, and had piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through me.
The only thing they had in common was their... what, brown hair? Fur? Whatever the dog-owner equivalent was.
“Thanks for grabbing my dog,” the man said.
“No problem,” I replied, not sure where to focus my gaze.
His smile was warm, and his hair was tousled in a way that looked effortlessly cool. My eyes drifted lower, noticing how his shirt clung to his muscular frame, damp from the run.
I quickly bent down to give Benny another drink, trying to shift my attention away from... other things.
The man crouched down and scooped Benny into his arms. I tried to remember what Lisa had said about the guy who adopted Benny.
Something about him being nice, friendly, and around our age?
I couldn’t say for sure about the first two, but this guy definitely looked older than I was.