The Chair He Bought, The Dog They Tried to Take, and the Choice

chin resting on the armrest like a tired king on a worn throne.

The chair still had the neon green sticker on it. $40.

Only now, technically, it belonged to someone else.

The young man—Caleb, he’d finally told me his name—stood in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should leave yet.

He scratched Barnaby’s ears slowly, like you do when you’re trying continue reading …