In the far corner of a cold, echoing warehouse where dust drifts lazily through thin beams of light slipping between cracked metal panels, a small skeletal puppy waits with a patience that feels almost sacred, as though time itself has slowed to sit beside it in shared sorrow, its frail body curled tightly against the concrete floor for warmth, its ribs rising and falling in shallow breaths that seem too fragile for such a harsh and empty place, yet stubbornly persistent all the same;

the air smells of rust and neglect, of forgotten things and abandoned promises, and every distant creak of settling steel or flutter of a loose sheet of tin makes the puppy lift its head with sudden hope sparkling in tired eyes, hope that flickers like a candle in the wind each time footsteps echo somewhere beyond the walls, because in its innocent heart it still believes that the person it loves will come back, that the familiar voice will call its name, that gentle hands will scoop it up and press it against a warm chest where it belongs, and so it waits..Check BElow