Her hand trembled as she opened the car door. Gravel crunched beneath her shoes, each step dragging with hesitation. The dog’s eyes, shining gold in the dying light, tracked her every move. He didn’t budge or blink. His body trembled, torn between terror and devotion.
Closer now, Tina saw the blanket more clearly. It wasn’t loose fabric, tossed aside. It was wrapped, tucked, bundled. Like something small had been swaddled before being placed in the ditch. The lump beneath it rose and fell, faintly, in the rhythm of fragile breaths.