When the Signal Dies, Love Is Logistics—and Every Choice Has a Cost

steady.

His eyes were still cloudy, still milky with age, but there was a sharpness in them too. Trust. The kind you don’t earn with words.

I knelt down and rubbed the joint above his back paw. He flinched, then leaned into my hand with a little groan that sounded almost embarrassed.

“I know,” I whispered. “I know it hurts.”

His tail thumped once, slow continue reading …