Troy ended his work for the day and slipped out of his office at three-fifteen. At this hour, the sidewalks were not crowded. He strode at a brisk pace to the end of the block and crossed to the opposite corner. At the far end of that block, he glimpsed Juan, wheeling his cart toward the alley behind the El Capitan Café. Burrito Belle perched on the little shelf inside the pushcart’s chrome handles, taking in the sights as she always did.
Troy chuckled. The crazy little dog was something else. He’d thought himself too busy and perhaps to self-sufficient to have a pet, but the idea was growing on him. Someone to talk to, a warm little body to snuggle close those times you were alone and maybe feeling just a bit behind the power curve when life nearly got the best of you. The comfort of a p
