Fan didn’t know when his birthday was. Dates and years were irrelevant to a life lived on the streets. He only knew the rhythm of the seasons, the sting of rain, and the warmth of the sun on his fur. Today was just another day, a day like any other, filled with the same emptiness that had become his constant companion.
He was a small, brown dog, lost in the vast, indifferent city. People rushed past him, their eyes fixed on their own worlds. To them, he was an invisible shadow, a nuisance perhaps, but certainly not a creature deserving of attention.
Today, as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows that seemed to mock his solitude, Fan found a sheltered spot beneath a discarded cardboard box. The city noises were muffled, but the emptiness inside him echoed louder than ever. There were no birthday songs, no playful pats, no warm embraces. Just the cold, hard ground and the gnawing hunger in his belly.
He remembered a time, a distant memory, when he had a home, a warm place filled with the sound of laughter. But that was a lifetime ago. Now, he was a survivor, a creature adapted to the harsh realities of street life. He had learned to scavenge for food, to find shelter in the most unlikely places, and to endure the indifference of the world.
As night fell, Fan curled up into a tight ball, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He was alone, truly alone. No one to share his birthday, no one to offer a kind word, no one to care. He was just a stray dog, a forgotten soul in a world that had moved on.
With a heavy heart, Fan closed his eyes. He dreamt of a warm home, a soft bed, and the love of a human companion. But when he woke, the harsh reality of his life was laid bare. Another day had passed, another birthday marked by solitude. He was just a speck in the grand scheme of things, a life without meaning, a shadow in a world that didn’t see him.
