I’m lying here, in the middle of a cold, gray street, where the wind cuts like blades and slips through every part of my body. My skin clings to my bones, barely covering them. Every movement feels impossible. I tremble—not only from the cold, but from the invisible weight of abandonment.

My eyes, clouded by exhaustion, can barely make out the shadows moving around me. My empty stomach twists with a dull, constant pain, and every breath reminds me how fragile my life has become.

My legs, weak like dry branches, no longer respond. A quiet fear echoes in my mind: “Maybe today is my last day…”
To the world, I’m just a small dog lost in the noise of the city. Cars rush past. Eyes turn away. No one stops for more than a second. I am just a blur—a life invisible to a world that keeps moving without me.

The cold sinks deep into my bones, and loneliness bites my heart with sharp teeth. Somewhere in the distance, I feel my breath slowly fading. Death creeps closer—slow, certain, unavoidable. And yet, in my eyes, there is still something left: a tiny spark of hope that, against all odds, refuses to go out.

I thought I would die forgotten.
But my heart still longs for one more chance.

Just one day… one single day to wag my tail in happiness in the arms of a real family. To feel the warmth of an embrace. To hear a voice call my name with kindness. To know that, even for a brief moment, I was loved.

I don’t know how long that moment would last—but it would be enough to give back the life I thought I had lost forever. 💔