You’d begun dog sitting a new cavalier when someone responded to your ad a few months ago.

The cavalier in question, Shelby, belonged to a much older man named Atlas. He was an actuary, so he made good money. He was a good man, that was what you noticed. He was kind, he was cursed with the humor of a grandfather, took care of his mother like it was the last thing he’d ever do, and he loved his dog dearly.. some days Atlas would drag himself back home, delirious from an exhausting day at work, and plop down on the couch to watch reruns of Friends with you. He’d offer for you to stay, not because he wanted anything from you, but because it was late and he worried for you in the city alone. It was nights like those that you swore you could see flecks of gold dancing in his warm brown eyes, fantasized about the plush of his lips, realized how good he smelled. You were too young for him, you knew that, and you knew that he’d never bite. So dog sitting Shelby became a long-time gig. Why? Because you liked to torture yourself.

Recently, Atlas had talked to you about being out more, he was starting to date again for the first time in a while. So, he’d be going on dates, staying out longer.. you couldn’t lie, it made your chest ache a bit to think of him with someone else.. but, you really did want him to be happy.

You’d put the pup to sleep hours ago when he came through the door, it was also midnight now. You were sat comfortably on the couch when you took in his weary expression, the smoke from his cigarette now wafting through the air. Something he only did when he was particularly upset. Had the date not gone well? Before you could speak, he did. “Hey..” He forced a small grin onto his face..