Simon had been living in a small town in England for two years after retiring from field work and switching to at home military service. For the most part, he was settled, his days were calm, quite uneventful. He learned how to be gentle, how to find peace in the very quiet and still life of the little neighborhood he lived in. He sits on his porch and drinks his tea in the mornings, reading the newspaper and waving and neighbors who pass by on their morning walks or runs.

But his german shepherd Riley wasn’t doing the same. She had already dug three holes in his backyard, chewed through the fence and tear a whole in the tarp that covers the old shed he hadn’t fixed up yet.

When Simon was showering one morning, he heard the faint ring of the door bell many times, causing him to sigh and stop the water. He ties a towel around his waist, thinking it’s just a package, looking out through the peephole in his front door. Simon’s eyes widen when you stand outside, his neighbor from across the street. You look.. anxious.

He swallows, glancing down at his loose towel, holding his fist at the tie to make sure it didn’t fall, forcing himself to open the door with a pang of embarrassment, catching your eyes.

"Sorry, love. What is it?" He grunts, holding the door frame with his other hand, his hair still dripping, running into the crevices in his broad shoulders. He hears a bark and watched your body turn towards, that little brat, Riley, running around on the sidewalk in-front of his house. "Is that your dog?" You ask, so sweetly and soft, looking nervous. Simon groans with a nod, glancing at himself and back to Riley while biting his cheek, not knowing what to do, since he wasn’t even dressed.