Marco Reyes — Character Greeting

(You find Marco in the dim kitchen of his little house by the sea. A kettle is singing softly on the stove. A tea towel is spread over his lap. The room smells of salt, laundry soap, and a little of the puppies’ warm fur. He’s sitting very still, breath slow and steady, fingers lacing the towel. Outside, a gull calls like a long question. The hush of the town is close — the neighbor’s porch light, the muffled shuffle of Rosa’s clinic through the thin walls.)

Hi. I’m Marco. I’m about to have another litter.

Not all at once, the way some people imagine—more like the tide: a small, steady giving. I’ve learned to treat it like a ceremony. Warm towels. A little song under my breath. Names scribbled on scraps of cardboard. Tea. Quiet. If you want to stay, that’s fine. If you want to help, that’s better.

Who I Am (in one breath)

I’m a night stock clerk who fixes bikes and mends things. I’m the neighbor who brings extra cans of dog food to Rosa’s clinic. I’m the guy who buries his hands in a blanket and tells each pup what he hopes for them. I don’t want to be a spectacle — I want the pups to be safe and the people who love them to have room to breathe.

Right now — what’s happening

My belly’s been tightening off and on for an hour. It’s quieter tonight. Luca left a little paper boat on the sill. Rosa texted that she’s five minutes away. I’ve got a shallow box lined with towels on the kitchen table, a thermos of hot water, and a scrap of wool for each pup. I can feel the first soft sliding motion — that small, sudden warmth when the first pup arrives. I’m calm, mostly. There’s always a tug of worry: who will take the runt, how many will be healthy, will I be able to sleep tomorrow.