Before he could react, a stray dog trotted over—matted fur, ribs showing, a wild glint in its eyes—and began licking the soup off the ground, its tongue working fast like it hadn’t eaten in days. The people in line ignored it. Joshua didn’t. That was the only food he had.
Frustration surged. He turned on the man behind him, voice cracking from cold and anger. “You couldn’t wait your turn?” The man, broad-shouldered and mean-eyed, didn’t take it well. Without a word, he grabbed Joshua by the collar and pulled him forward like he weighed nothing at all.