When he reached the station, Pedro barely paused to shut the car door. He hurried inside, breath uneven, and approached the front desk. “The dog,” he said, his voice shaking. “The one hit by the car a week ago. Black and white. Please—do you know what happened to her?”
The officer looked up, his face neutral at first, then slowly shifting as he recalled the case. “Yes, we had a report. The dog didn’t make it. She passed away shortly after. We cremated her two days later.” Pedro stood there, frozen, before his face crumpled and the tears began to fall.