don't hug me i'm scared . sparks

It was dark. The ground was hard on his back, and he struggled to turn over into a more comfortable position. The concrete was cold against his flushed cheek, and he felt that he could fall asleep if he tried.

And then he heard a strange noise. The uneven, choppy panting sounds of an animal near him—a dog, he guessed. He lifted a hand to shoo it away, but when its slippery tongue slid across his cheek, he directed his hand to wipe it off. It only smeared across his face, though, and he let out a quiet curse.

Just as suddenly, his chest was tapped by the toe of a shoe. It didn’t hurt, but he moaned, waving his hand in the air to somehow signify that he wanted to be left alone. Not dead yet, but he would be soon.

He rolled over again, his eyelids fluttering open. The harsh glare of the sun attacked his eyes, and as he sat up, dark spots clouded his vision and left his head feeling light.

“Go . . . away.” He didn’t want to talk to people. His vision wavered, and as his eyelids threatened to fall, he tried to stand up. He was tired, but he couldn’t fall asleep on the street. But the light-headedness kicked in, because the world shot up from under him as he toppled over, falling on his rear. He couldn’t bring himself to try and stand up again, so he sat there, looking at the ground, avoiding the lady’s piercing gaze.

The strange, red-headed woman let loose a few light-minded comments and left him with one of the dogs, turning on her heels and strolling away. Something about her gait made her seem self-assured and fiercely independent. And that made Canis think that she was looking down on him.

Canis inhaled a sharp breath and glared at the dog. The way his tail wagged, slapping the concrete with muffled thuds, made him seem so content, and it infuriated Canis. He, who was struggling at the end of the rope, in the presence of an animal who floated through life only made him feel sick. And so he flattened himself against the sidewalk, refusing to acknowledge it.

The thousands of thoughts warring for attention inside his head quieted, and then disappeared altogether as he watched the lazy clouds roll past on a blue sky. He wasn’t thinking about his life back at home, the begrudging comfort, the lack of affection so clear in the air that it made his gut twist. He wasn’t thinking about how he was going to survive on the streets. He was living in the present. And the present was watching clouds swim past on the ground, where the cries of the city were drowned out by the overwhelming silence in his head.

He came to when a wrinkled bag of McDonalds fell from the sky at his feet. Looking up, he found the red-headed woman who thought she could buy his trust. And, to his chagrin, it was working.

Reaching out a hesitant hand for the food, he pulled it into his lap and opened it up with the eagerness of a child ripping away the gift-wrapping of a Christmas present. He wolfed down a cold burger before snatching at a packet of fries, ignoring the red-headed woman. He needed to eat.

Only when he wiped off the traces of grease peppering the ends of his lips did he notice the red-headed woman existed. He watched her with dull, unwavering eyes—the kind that didn’t belong to a person of the streets. Because the streets had become his life.

“And why do you care?” he asked, startled by the question and its saccharine tang. Too sweet to be genuine. But he was beginning to surprise himself with the sarcasm that flowed from his lips. It was a disturbing sign.

SPARKS

Canis looked up at the strange woman and cocked his head to one side, feigning ignorance. And it was an accurate representation of what he felt inside—he didn’t feel he truly understood what she’d just proposed, and was stalling to piece together his inner turmoil. Unfortunately, the puzzle pieces didn’t seem to fit.

Canis was, although grievously, very interested. And he didn’t want the woman to know that. But he wanted the woman to know that. He didn’t want to accept the woman’s offer, but, at the same time, he couldn’t stand the city’s honking cacophony, its oil-like stench, couldn’t stand to be at its mercy.

But this woman. Canis’ eye twitched. He felt—no, he knew—that he was jumping from one boiling pot into another.

Pick your poison, Canis.

Canis pushed himself off of the ground with greasy hands, brushing off the tiny pieces of gravel that pressed into his skin, and faced the woman, legs erect. Face to face, he realized that she wasn’t as tall as he’d initially thought, and his shoulders sagged somewhat; his stature, however, remained rigid and wary. Like the frozen state before you broke into a wild, headlong sprint.

“So you’re saying, now that you’ve fed me like one of your dogs, I’m obligated to slave for you?” It wasn’t quite what she’d said, but after passing through Canis’ mind filters, it made perfect sense. “Does this make me your sick charity case?”

Just to sweeten the deal, he added a smile.

SPARKS

“Wait!” Canis’ voice was raspy, like plastic being shoved through a dry airway. He hadn’t spoken with such desperation in a long time. He felt, though, that this was a one-time chance to get away, to run away from the heart of the city, for a roof—however ratty—over his head and food in his plate.

He reached out. The action screamed at Canis, telling him that there was some sort of mistake, that the whole, fuzzy-edged scene was just a terrible dream, and that he’d wake up in his terrible house and get up to another terrible day. He felt like he was walking through water, in slow motion, carrying the entire world on his back. It felt like he would never get to the woman.

And then he grabbed onto the hem of her shirt.

He let out a lofty sigh, and his hands were on his knees, keeled over as though he’d just run a marathon. In a way, he just had.

“Wait,” he repeated. “My name’s not ‘Kid.’” He swiped his lower lip with a still-greasy hand. “It’s Canis.”

He looked into the crimson eyes the strange and short and hardy red-haired woman, his own eyes hollow and murky. But there was something deep inside it, something flickering. All of his previous vitriol seemed to dissipate. “Take me with you.”