Night. Bob is walking home on a quiet street in Brooklyn. He hears a soft whimpering sound near a garbage can. He stops, bends down, and sees a small, battered puppy wrapped in a dirty rag.

He looks around—no one. The dog is trembling, barely breathing. Bob stands still for a long time, as if considering whether to pick it up. Finally, he picks it up, feels the baby shudder with fear.

“Hush… it’s okay,” he mumbles, though he’s never been very good at talking to animals or people.

At that moment, She appears. Her footsteps are heard on the sidewalk, and Bob looks up awkwardly. Now he’s standing with the small, crippled puppy in his arms, not knowing what to do next.