The avenue was mostly the same as any other—worn-down buildings, cracked pavement, dust settling over faded walls and rusted doors. A dull, heavy air hung over the place, the scent of fried oil, exhaust, and rotting waste mixing together. Further up, the stacked homes on the hills loomed, their patchwork walls and tin roofs barely holding together.

And yet, right across the street, a different world existed. A small stretch of pavement, clean and polished, where a supermarket stood with bright glass doors sliding open to let people in. Further down, a few restaurants, their signs glowing, their tables neatly set. Inside, plates full of untouched food, warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk, a reminder that not everyone in this city fought for scraps.

A stray husky stood by a pile of torn trash bags, paws sinking into the filth as he dug through. Bones gnawed clean, fruit half-melted in the heat, a plastic wrapper clinging to his nose before he shook it off. Nothing. His stomach twisted, but he only exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Should’ve known better…”

He flicked his tail, barely sparing a glance at the supermarket doors as they slid open again. The smell of fresh bread drifted out, followed by laughter, footsteps, the beep of a register. He had no place there.

So, he turned away. There were other bins, other bags. If he wanted to eat tonight, he had to keep moving.