A sock with holes, torn and discarded, like the soul of the man they were once attached to. Dreams which were caught on a brown dream catcher, its tightly woven threads caught and held onto each and every dream that tried to slip through. Life was hard; nobody cared if you would make it to tomorrow, nobody except for the dog. A lick on the hand, a body to hug at night, they were alone together.

A smelly old man, broken and beaten, arms forever outstretched to prey on the fortunes of others. His dog, Golden, was always by his side. They shared everything. If there was only enough for one, it was the dog that seized the spoils. Golden had often found food on the streets for his master, whether it was a moldy piece of pizza, radiating the smell of poison, its breading made of cardboard, or a brown coffee cup full of golden quality yet discarded just like the small dogs master had been by society.
Day and night they struggled to just survive. Some night they were lucky enough to get the burnt discarded bread from the bakery. Other nights they huddled together under a bridge, their stomachs aching and rolling about in hope of needed nourishment. Golden would keep his master warm in the winter months, and this year the winds blew particularly cold. He huddled close to his master, hoping for a day to come were he would finally have a place to call home.

He left his master in search of food; he scoured through the streets in search of something; anything. However, there was nothing. He stared in envy at the people inside of a pizzeria. They pulled apart the bread and the hot cheese strung from their mouths. He wanted it, needed it. The window was all that separated him from the food his master needed, but no matter how many times he pawed the glass everyone ignored him like they had since he was a pup. When he had finally given up hope and was just starting to walk away a young girl exited the pizzeria with a box of breadsticks. She outstretched her hand and Golden gently took the box, he gave her a courteous look, and returned to the man.
He found his way to the bridge easily, he knew the streets well. The man was huddled in a corner, his body was eerily still and his face was a pale white. Golden scurried up to the man and placed the food on his lap; the man did not move or thank the dog. He was asleep, and it was a sleep from which he never awoke.