By: Jessica Jin

It was a cold Saturday night in late October. The clouds covered most of the full moon. On a street, old street lights flickered as a small, curly-haired, white dog walked down it alone.

No one was out this late except for that dog. It walked past house after house, not seeming to want to go to any of them. It continued walking through the dead of night until it reached the gates of a cemetery. It sat there for a moment, staring up at the weathered sign: Willow Grove.

Even though the gates were closed, the dog could easily fit through between the bars. It moved on walking through the cemetery quietly and carefully. It seemed that the dog knew the cemetery layout by heart.

The white dog stopped at a peculiar gravestone. The dog sat there staring at the stone as if the stone was its owner. It sat there for a long time, waiting alone.

The dog was still at the gravestone the next morning. Clouds lingered in the sky, covering up the sun as the moon disappeared. The dog was curled up, sleeping silently in front of the gravestone.

It only woke up when it heard the wheels of a bicycle pedaling down the street. It raised its head slightly to see a man looking at the gravestone in front of the dog. The man had a grave expression on his face and sat down next to the dog on the damp grass. The white dog wasn’t scared of this man. It made its way into the man’s lap as they both stared at the gravestone together.

They comforted each other with a silent understanding as they both thought about the same person so dear to them.