Grief had stolen his partner, and responsibility had stolen his rest. But Jamie was all he had now. And that had to mean something. Then, something shifted. It happened on a Tuesday. Jamie was staring out of the window in class, head propped on his hand, eyes glazed over. His teacher was going over fractions, but he wasn’t listening.
He didn’t care how many halves made a whole. His whole had already been broken. That’s when he saw them. Across the street, a kid was walking with his mother. They were laughing about something — Jamie couldn’t hear what — but he didn’t care about them. What caught his eye was the little creature bouncing along beside them. A puppy.