storyteller and friend
I found Celia on the bench in front of the octopus exhibit. She sat quietly before the huge wall of glass, legs hanging over the edge of the bench with her feet swinging gently back and forth. “Celia…” I tried to keep my voice steady as I sat down beside her. “You had me worried…
Run. Run. Run. My breath is panting and my tongue is lolling out. My paws strike the ground as I bound forward. I can see the darting shape ahead. It tugs at something in my chest, deeper than my pounding heart and more painfully than my straining lungs. I must chase, I must follow, I…