Page 78 of Ewan

Miss Scholz wants me to respect her dog’s schedule, and I do everything I can to abide by her rules.

Curled up on the couch, Mousy sleeps next to me, my hand resting on her back when the weather seems to change outside.

It snows less and less, and the cloud pulls apart as the sun chases away the fog.

Before long, a large patch of blue sky gleams over the city, and the clouds move even faster.

The bright sun paints everything in a golden light, the last specks of snow floating in the air before they completely disappear.

It must be viciously cold outside, but isn’t it beautiful?

I rise from my seat, move to the wall of glass, and peer outside. People walk briskly, and I see their breaths, which only confirms it’s brutal outside.

Still, I can’t wait to go out.

Bryant Park is not far.

Mousy and I could spend a few moments there.

I return to the couch, grab the dog’s coat, and put it on, although she protests a little because I just woke her.

“We have to go, pumpkin. It will be short. I promise.”

It probably won’t be short. I know her. Once she gets outside, it’s hard to bring her back.

I put my coat on and scoop my phone out of my backpack.

Should I text him that I’ll be at the park?

He said I should send him updates. I end up texting him.

Me: I’m at the park.

That’s it. He probably knows which park.

Bryant Park is the only park in the area.

Five minutes later, I’m out the door, my backpack dangling from my shoulder, the little dog pressed against my chest.

We exit the building a few seconds later, and I let her walk.

She’s not crazy about the cold––we’ve already established that––but she gets the hang of it once a variety of smells hit her sensitive snout.

“That’s my girl,” I say as we start walking.

Minutes later, we enter the park.

Brr. It’s freezing cold. But I’m not the only one venturing on the snow-covered alleys.

Mousy does her business, and I pick up after her before tossing the poop bag into the garbage bin when an unmistakable voice rings behind me,

“You’re a natural,” the man says, and I spin around with a blush nipping at my cheeks.

18

SCARLETT

“Ewan,”I push out, automatically taking in the people in the park.

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