The laughter spilled out of the restaurant like perfume. Warm lights, clinking glasses, people leaning into each other like the night was theirs.
He couldn’t have been more than ten. Maybe younger. Clothes stiff with dirt, sleeves too short, a blank look that hit harder than any plea. He wasn’t begging. Wasn’t looking at anyone. Just slowly breaking that bread in half, like it was a ritual.
The dog didn’t bark. Didn’t whine. Just waited. Patient, alert.
I watched the boy tear off the bigger piece and hand it to the dog. No words. No hesitation. Just gave it away like it was obvious. Like of course the dog eats first.
English