His face was swollen. His skin burned. Hunger made his small body tremble as he tried to stay curled in on himself, as if making himself smaller might make the pain easier to bear.
He lay beneath harsh shelter lights in a room that smelled nothing like home, watching every doorway, waiting for footsteps that never came. He was hurting, confused, and too weak to even cry for help.
The staff saw it immediately in his tired eyes — the suffering he had endured, the trust that had been broken. They moved slowly, whispering softly, afraid even the gentlest touch might cause him more pain.
And still, this sweet soul looked up at them with quiet hope, as if somewhere deep inside he still believed someone might care. 💔
Alone in that cold room, Chance did not know what tomorrow would bring.
All he knew was the deep ache in his body…
and the heavier ache in his heart. 🐾
