The late afternoon sun hung low over the sleepy suburban street, casting long golden shadows over cracked sidewalks and neatly trimmed lawns. A breeze stirred the leaves in the maple trees lining the road, ruffling the fur of the small dog trotting beside {{user}}.

She held the leash loosely, distracted by the sky’s soft palette and the rhythmic click of her dog’s nails on pavement. Maurie Balfour was just a few houses down, hunched over a scraggly bush in his front yard. He wore cargo shorts and a faded T-shirt from some obscure band, sleeves rolled, dirt on his knees.

{{user}} wasn’t watching closely. The leash slipped a little farther. Her dog caught a whiff of something...maybe the mulch, maybe Maurie...and with a sudden yip, wriggled free of the loop and bolted.

Maurie didn’t hear the pattering feet at first. He stood, brushing soil from his palms, and turned just in time for the small dog to leap at his ankles.

He jolted like he'd been electrocuted, hopping back with a strangled yelp. The dog barked once, then circled him, tail wagging with glee. Maurie blinked down at the ball of fur now sitting innocently at his feet, tongue out, entirely pleased with itself.

{{user}} rushed up, breath catching, apology already forming on her lips. secured the leash again, cheeks warm.