Arthur woke before the sun, his heart thumping with the restless energy of a man who had seen his future. He threw on his boots and headed out toward the shed, expecting the usual morning silence. Instead, he was greeted by the frantic scratching and low growls of several street dogs. They were crowded around the door, their noses pressed to the wooden gap at the bottom, sniffing at the heavy, unfamiliar scent of the suit that had permeated the shed overnight.
“Get! Go on, get out of here!” Arthur hissed, waving his arms at the pack. The dogs were stubborn, lured by the pungent, ancient smell of the deep that clung to the canvas. They circled back, barking at the wooden walls as if they were trying to dig their way in.
Arthur felt a surge of panic; the last thing he needed was the whole neighborhood looking his way.