Their days began to follow an unspoken rhythm. Pedro didn’t check the clock anymore. He simply waited for the soft tap of paws and the flash of green in Lola’s mouth. Like clockwork, she arrived every day at 11 a.m.—not a minute early, not a minute late. Until, one day, she didn’t.
It had been a particularly busy morning. Orders flew in, and Pedro worked without pause, wiping sweat from his brow as the crowd swelled. It wasn’t until he handed out the last plate and leaned against the cart for a breather that he checked his phone. 11:36 a.m. No Lola.