The freighter arrived in port. Robert waited patiently for him to get as close as possible to a pier or a beach at least, when the freighter was reaching it he opened the window and jumped onto the pier, with little strength, he ran before anyone could notice his presence reaching the customs, there it stopped.

There was a window near customs, he could see his reflection in it, he was a tall and skinny man, with a large and aquiline nose, a long face, the misery in which he found himself made him see twenty more years than he had, the beard had not grown much; but he was close to looking like one of his desert ancestors, the beanie he wore made him look bleak; but the worst part was his coat, dirty, almost torn black, maybe it also smelled bad, he was too destroyed externally and the expression of surprise as well as outrage on his face indicated that he was worse internally, he lowered his head while tears ran down her cheeks.

What the hell was he going to do at Customs? Would he ask for political protection? Of what? He was not a politician, he was a poor mechanic who could improve the engine of his father's car so that the Gestapo cars would not catch him. So what was he going to say there? if he didn't have a passport

Quietly he withdrew from there and looked for an alternative way to enter New York without someone noticing his presence. He saw the water around him, then he had an idea.

He had no strength and would possibly die trying; but it was a thousand times better that to return to a place where they would kill him without a doubt, he went into the sea to swim, he swam many distances, more than he could believe or remember, a lot of miles. Some people saw it; but they believed he was a poor homeless man. He continued like this until he reached a deserted beach. He was able to get out of the water and walk to the street, once inside the Big Apple he saw that he had succeeded, he was in the city, illegally; but he was in New York. After that he continued to walk the streets cold but calm as people continued their lives without any problem.

The first night was spent in a dark and smelly alley, just like he was at the time. thinking about how to survive, how to take refuge from the cold and, most importantly, how to achieve that dream of having your own mechanical workshop. That night he felt the cold followed by despair, he had no future, that was clear, he would die on the streets of New York, of that there was no doubt, perhaps the police would find him and take him to a homeless shelter. There they would discover who he is and deport him back to Germany, he began to cry thinking that perhaps he should kill himself before all that happened, there was no sense dreaming if there was no way to realize that dream. Furious cursed himself for surviving and prepared to get some sleep when he heard a small growl of protest. Robert turned to see a small puppy with black fur looking at him with curiosity and fear, it was not a breed dog, it was a stray like him, smiling he said

"Hello little boy, what's your name?"

The dog barked in greeting at what he said almost immediately.

"You can't speak, right, I'm sorry little one; but I have nothing to give you, I'm just like you"

The dog approached where he was and leaned against him Robert smiled and hugged him saying

"Perhaps we should not be alone, I will call you Companion, because you will accompany me during these days, until one of us leaves, what do you say, Companion? Do you like the idea?"

The dog barked in response as he wagged his tail. He laughed when he saw that and hugged him feeling like, even in despair, there were things worth defending. Perhaps like his dreams, he smiled at such an idea, it was worth it, never giving up and continuing on, this is how the two friends spent the whole night.