The dog woke. He looked up to the sky and saw the sun rise. It was too bright to look at, but he was old so he looked anyway. It broke into two glowing circles and drifted to either side. All that was left was a tangible absence, and he knew he must find something to fill it.
He had spent the night under a train car and he crawled out into the chill air. He wondered a little that he wasn't blind, but what was, was, and he soon forgot.
He shook his coat and wished he hadn't, for an instant sense of cold moved over him. He began his quest. The worms in his stomach pleaded for food, so he licked a hamburger wrapper. The gravel and cement and cracks all felt thick under his paws, and when he listened to them they whispered lies of eternal depth. He didn't mind. He had other things to worry about.
He followed a smell of diesel for the next hour, it seemed to be right, but it vanished and he realized he'd been fooled. He could never hope to keep up with a truck, he should have stayed closer to the town. Now, his hole in the sky was setting and he had found nothing. He coughed, and sat down, exhausted.
As the moon rose he began to wonder if he'd been wrong. Maybe he had more time then he'd thought. Maybe. It felt much warmer then the sun had, but his cough got much worse. He laid down.
End of day 5,113.
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