I Asked a Bleeding Biker on the Curb if He Needed Help and He Said Save My Dog

out. I leaned closer.

He pulled me down to his face, his bloody mouth right at my ear. His breath smelled like iron.

“That dog. She isn’t… she isn’t just a dog. She belonged to my brother.”

His eyes started rolling back.

I shook him. “Sir. Sir, stay with me. Where did they take her? What did they say?”

He didn’t answer. His head dropped against the dumpster,continue reading …