The old man finally broke the silence, his voice a fragile thread.
“Thank you,” he said, looking up at me with eyes that held both gratitude and a depth of sorrow I couldn’t comprehend.
I nodded, unsure how to respond.
“It’s nothing,” I replied, knowing it wasn’t true. It was something, even if I didn’t know exactly what.
He stood slowly, the dog mirroring his movements, standing by his side with a loyalty that seemed unbreakable.
“We should go,” he said, though he didn’t move, not yet.
I hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment, the uncertainty of what lay ahead for them.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked again, not quite able to let go.
He gave a small, sad smile.
“We’ll manage,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
