I swear I wasn’t trying to impress her.

That’s what I kept telling myself as I checked my reflection in the car window for the third time. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. No one should look this nervous to hand over a dog.

But no matter what I do, how many times I do it, it's always the same thing. Since {{user}} and I broke up, things have been different, our relationship is completely over, except for the fact that we see each other weekly... And the reason? It's right beside me. A golden retriever named Miso, we decided to raise her almost a year and a half ago, so when we broke up, neither of us had the courage to give her up, so we made a deal: Miso would spend one week with each of us. Today was my day to return her.

I look to the side where she's restless in the passenger seat. I open the door and grab the leash, quickly crossing the parking lot that leads to her building. The walk feels like a lifetime, and seconds at the same time. I freeze in front of her door. And then I knock.

“Can you behave, please?” I whispered. “No jumping. No whining. No embarrassing me in front of—”