She sat quietly behind bars…
Watching footsteps fade.
Wondering…
Why no one ever chose her.
Every day…
The same spot.
The same view.
The same hallway.
Footsteps come.
Footsteps go.
Some fast.
Some slow.
Some pause for a second…
Then move on.
She notices every one of them.
But now…
She doesn’t make a sound.
She used to.
Soft whimpers.
Gentle calls.
A quiet hope…
That someone might hear her.
That someone might stop.
But over time…
She learned something painful.
The silence hurt less…
Than hoping.
And being ignored.
So now…
She waits.
Quietly.
Holding onto a small wish.
That one day…
Someone will pause.
And truly see her.
She wasn’t always here.
There was a time…
She had a home.
A place to belong.
She remembers it…
In pieces.
Familiar voices.
Gentle hands.
A warmth…
That made her feel safe.
Simple.
But everything.
Until one day…
It was gone.
The rain came down.
Cold.
Steady.
She was left outside.
Waiting.
Watching.
Believing…
It was temporary.
That someone would come back.
That the door would open again.
But it never did.
She doesn’t understand why.
She doesn’t know what changed.
Only that the world she trusted…
Disappeared.
And left her behind.
Now…
Inside the shelter…
She does the only thing she knows.
She rises slowly…
Onto her hind legs.
Presses gently against the bars.
Stretching…
As far as she can.
Toward the people passing by.
Not just reaching.
Remembering.
What it felt like…
To be close to someone.
To be loved.
Because deep down…
She hasn’t changed.
She’s still gentle.
Still hopeful.
Still holding onto that same belief.
That warmth exists.
That kindness exists.
That love…
Is still possible.
And even now…
After everything…
She hasn’t stopped wishing.
That maybe…
Just maybe…
Someone will choose her.