In the early hours of the morning, around ten o’clock, a red Toyota Tundra pickup emerged from the entrance of Jimmy’s apartment complex.

Just across the street from the five-story building, Ben, a homeless man who had recently bummed cigarettes from Drew a few days ago and enjoyed a milkshake from Jimmy the previous night, sat on a weathered bench.

Amidst the dim light of dawn, Ben sported a worn white vest and faded blue jeans that had lost their original hue and now seemed closer to gray.

As the vehicle rolled into view, Ben pondered aloud, “Another new tenant, huh? I could’ve sworn Jimmy said those apartments were all occupied.”

In a moment of self-reflection, he added, “Did you honestly think he’d let you through those doors with those raggedy pants, Ben?”

A dog, positioned a few yards away from Ben and near the apartment building’s entrance, observed the scene.

Once the truck disappeared from view, Ben couldn’t help but shout at it, “You’re a lucky one, you know. "

(Hesitates)

Ben's lamentations continued, " It’s a strange world, buddy, where a dog like you can be more esteemed and cherished than a fellow human. Look at you,” he angrily kicked the air.

In response to his voice, the dog trotted inside, leaving Ben to endure the chilly morning on his own.

The dog, who's name is Girl, lives on the same floor as Charli. 

 Girl heard Ben lament, and she agreed it was a very much unfair world, and she loved it that way. 

~~~~

The weather was far from ideal, with dense fog obscuring the surroundings, and the sun had yet to make an appearance, withholding its warmth, even though it was nearing noon. 

Under the crimson glow of a traffic light, the red truck patiently awaited its turn in line, poised for the signal to shift from red to green.

Within the truck’s cabin, a familiar figure sat, sipping on a cold beer and grooving to the tunes of country music.

Despite a somewhat handsome countenance, he bore dark circles beneath his eyes and a notably troublesome nose that he couldn’t resist touching from time to time.

His free hand, when not clutching the steering wheel, alternated between gripping a beer can and fussing with his nose. 

His gaze oscillated between the road ahead and the traffic lights, longing for the green signal, to continue his journey.

When the green light finally granted him passage, he merged onto the highway leading away from the city.

After an hour on the road, he veered left onto a winding mountainous tarmac route.

 Just then, he spotted a traffic police officer and a parked truck on the side of the road.

He had been on this route before about a year ago, and there hadn’t been any traffic police.

He inwardly cursed his luck, decelerating and pulling over.

Another police officer, a woman in her twenties, emerged from the police vehicle and crossed the road toward him