Paulo woke up to the dog licking his face. The light coming through the cabin windows was pale and weak, filtered through a thick layer of clouds that hung low over the sky.
When the dog realized his new owner was awake and had his eyes open, he jumped down and started barking at the door.
Paulo was surprised. He never would've imagined the dog would be that well trained—not to do his business inside. At least that was one less thing to worry about.
He got out of bed and walked to the front door. A cool, damp breeze slipped in as soon as he opened it. The dog limped onto the wet grass. The ground was dark from the night's moisture, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled low and lazy. He'd have to mention the limp to the vet to see if they could do something about it.
Paulo stepped outside too, taking in the land around the cabin now that it wasn't pitch black anymore.
Grass. Wild plants. Green everywhere—deeper and richer under the heavy gray sky. And that gorgeous lake—the thing that had been ninety percent of the reason he chose this cabin. Its surface was dull silver this morning, little ripples forming as the wind skimmed across it. Would it be work to keep the grass trimmed? Sure. The lake edges? Definitely. But it would be worth it.
A fine mist began drifting through the air, so light it almost felt imagined. Paulo headed back inside before the drizzle turned into something steadier.
He made himself another ham and cheese sandwich and filled a bowl with dog food. He needed to think of a name soon, or he'd get used to just calling him "dog," and then it'd be hard to change it.
As soon as the dog heard the bowl filling up, he ran back in, tail wagging like crazy, tiny droplets clinging to his fur. He probably didn't even remember that just a day ago he'd been on the streets—hungry, cold, ignored by people walking past like he didn't exist. Paulo crouched down and ran his hand over the damp fur, slow and gentle.
He stood up to grab his sandwich but remembered to wash his hands first. Even though the dog looked clean, he still needed a proper checkup to rule out anything serious.
The clock read 8:30 a.m. when Paulo finished eating. Since he had time, he washed the few dishes he'd dirtied the night before and that morning. The dog had already slipped outside again, probably chasing who-knows-what. Paulo could hear his barking every now and then, muffled by the thick air. Each time, he smiled.
After cleaning the kitchen, he took a shower and got ready for the day. First stop: the vet. If he had to leave the dog there for further evaluation, he could go ahead with his plan to stop by the library and write for a while. Ever since he'd started scribbling again and playing with the idea of maybe becoming a writer, he preferred doing it in places like libraries or cafés. Something about writing in those spaces made it feel lighter, easier to breathe.
He grabbed his backpack off the chair by the door—it held his laptop and a notebook—and slung it over his shoulder. Once everything was packed, he locked the cabin and called for the dog. It took a few seconds before the dog came jumping out of the bushes, shaking off water from his coat. The sky had grown darker, clouds rolling thicker from behind the treeline. Paulo made a mental note to ask about tick prevention too, since the dog would probably spend a lot of time exploring the huge forest surrounding the cabin.
"C'mon, buddy! Time to make sure everything's okay with you—and get your shots up to date so you can run around free out here."
The dog wagged his tail and jumped into the passenger seat as soon as Paulo opened the door. A drop of rain hit the windshield. Then another.
From the cabin to the first signs of civilization, it was about a fifteen-minute drive. By the time they reached town, the drizzle had turned into a steady, quiet rain. Streets were slick and reflective, storefront lights glowing softly against the gray morning. Not many people were outside, even though it was Monday—just a few figures hurrying along sidewalks with hunched shoulders, hands tucked into pockets.
Most shops were open: a pharmacy, the grocery store he'd gone to the day before, a bakery with fogged-up windows, a carpentry shop, and a bookstore—he was still surprised by that. He hadn't expected one in a town this small. And there, almost in the center, next to city hall, was the library, its brick walls darkened by the rain.
The vet's office was just a few meters ahead, right beside the town's small hospital. Paulo parked, rain tapping steadily against the roof of the car.
"Ready, buddy?" he said, pulling up his hood and stepping out with the dog.
Inside, the clinic was bright and warm, all white with black accents. No one was there except him and the receptionist—a woman in her mid-twenties, average height, with warm, gentle eyes. She smiled at him, bright against the gray morning.
"Good morning! And who's this handsome boy? Or girl," she quickly corrected herself.
"Good morning! I'm Paulo—I moved to Rio Denso yesterday. And this guy doesn't have a name yet. I found him abandoned in the rain while driving here. I was hoping to run some tests, make sure everything's okay."
The receptionist stepped out from behind the counter and walked over.
"Aww, you poor sweet thing! Who could be so heartless to abandon such a beautiful little guy like this?" she said, gently petting him.
Paulo felt like he could trust them right away. She clearly loved animals—and in a place like that, it mattered. He'd heard too many horror stories about clinics that forgot what "care" meant.
She looked up, realizing she'd left him standing there. "Sorry! He's just so adorable, I got carried away! We do have time to give him a full checkup. The doctor has an opening in about an hour."
Paulo checked his watch. 9:43 a.m.
"Is it okay if I leave him here until then? I'd like to check out the library and walk around town."
She smiled. "Of course! The whole appointment should take about an hour. You can come back before noon to pick him up."
"Perfect. Thank you." Paulo crouched down to talk to the dog. "And you behave yourself, champ. I'll be right back."
When Paulo stepped out, the rain was stronger. He ran to the library, backpack bouncing on his shoulder. The distance wasn't far, but enough to soak him. He didn't care—he was smiling like a kid. New life, new city, new companion.
Inside the library, he shook off his wet hair and walked toward the reception desk.
"Well, that's a face I don't recognize. What brings you to this end-of-the-world city?"
Paulo closed the door behind him and tossed his wet hair back. "I moved here yesterday. My name's Paulo."
The guy held out his hand. "Ah, so you're the new guy then. Nice to meet you. I'm Kiran. I work here mostly alone, but I don't mind—I loooooove books."
Paulo smiled. People like Kiran, who made friends easily and overshared about their lives with strangers, were easy to like.
"Nice to meet you, Kiran. I'm into books too. By the way, is it okay if I just sit and write for a while? My dog's at the vet, should be done in a couple of hours. I'd walk around town, but… the rain."
"Sure. Follow me—I've got the perfect spot for you. Coffee's not allowed, but I actually have some hidden in the kitchen."
Kiran led him to a corner table on the third floor, with a perfect view of the city and rain.
"This is my favorite spot when I sneak lunch breaks. Don't tell my boss. Coffee?"
"Please. Coffee, this weather, and a library? I might finish a whole book here."
Paulo pulled his laptop from his backpack, set it on the table, and started writing. The rain and gray skies made him feel calm, focused.
Kiran came back with coffee and biscuits. "You didn't need to."
"I'm glad you did," Paulo said, smiling, taking a sip. "Quiet, calm places like this are perfect for writing. Cafés are too loud."
"And what are you writing? Fiction, biography, a town exposé?" Kiran peeked at his laptop.
Paulo laughed. "No drug dealers. Just a horror story idea I've had for a while."
"Oh, so you're taken?" Kiran asked.
Paulo's face went red. "I was married… with a guy. We broke up."
"Ah, sorry. Too curious, I guess."
Paulo smiled. "It's fine. It's been a while."
They were interrupted by someone else entering. Kiran walked to the third-floor handrail and sighed when he saw who it was. Paulo got up, curious.
A tall, bearded man stood at the reception.
"Who's that?" Paulo asked.
"My dream man," Kiran said.