By the end of the week, Ethan couldn’t help slowing each time he passed. Curiosity seeped into his routine. He found himself wondering what could drive an animal to such stubbornness. And sometimes, when the dog’s eyes met his, he felt the faintest prickle of invitation—an unspoken plea to get involved.
By late afternoon, Ethan realized the dog had been digging since morning. He’d passed it on his way to class, and now—almost eleven hours later—the animal was still there. Its movements were slower, its ribs quivering with every breath, but it hadn’t stopped once. Something about that persistence gnawed at him.