The Ease of Breathing

Abela's tail twitches, and Alan runs his hand over the top of her head, not being too careful, so she registers the touch, but he’s not being too rough either, so she doesn't become irritated.

She's panting, her throat dry from the humid air. Alan would usually offer some comforting words, but his throat is too tight, and he's afraid his voice would crack.

Alan sits on the bench, Abela right beneath it, her head in reach of Alan's fingertips.

He croaks, "Just a little longer. They'll be here."

But he doesn't think they can make it any longer. He's already feeling drowsy and dizzy, and he can suspect the feelings are doubled for Abela.

There's no shade to hide under.

No water to drink.

Well, no water that's free, anyway.

But Alan sees the bucket across the street, there for no other reason except to collect the water that's dripping down and leaking in through a hole on the roof of someone's porch.

Alan runs his fingers on the tips of Abela's ears, letting the soft fur give him confidence, purpose.

When he's sure the owner is nowhere near, he runs across the street to the bucket, filled with rain water from yesterday's storm.