1.
Stupidly I have become lost in my own city and I shuffle through streets, down alleys in stunted vain, searching for landmarks, recognisable signs, anything that will set me back on the right path, the path home, to my wife and my children. Three weeks later and I am still wandering, my shoes worn down to little more than a few scraps of lace, a tongue, my shirt a mass of tears and tears and stains. The hunger passed me many days ago and water, the water is everywhere if you look hard enough, and you wonder why they bother buildings dams at all. I find half a cigarette in the gutter and I light it with my last match, wish I had a way to preserve the fire, but as I am thinking the match sputters out and all I can do is drop it. I stand there smoking in the sunshine and a dog comes up and begins sniffing my foot. I reach down to pat him but he isn't interested in that and he trots off, so I follow him, glad to have found a new friend. He turns and barks at me a few times, seems frustrated at me, but all I understand is encouragement as I have no canine. When he barks it is just a mess of sound, but once or twice I can hear him speak my name. I keep at his tail and follow him through a half-open gate into a yard bordered by a white picket fence, and he sits on the grass and begins licking one of his hind legs. A small girl on a tricycle blowing wetly through squashed lips looks up at me and smiles. I smile back. She reminds me of...something.
“Hello.” she says, wiping her chin.
“Hello.” I say.
“What's your name?”
”Rolf.” I tell her.
“My name's Samantha.”
I nod.
“Are you lost?” she asks.
I nod.
“Are you hungry?”
“I suppose so.”
“Do you want something to eat Rolf?”
“Oh, yes please.” I tell her, shifting my weight from leg to leg in excitement.
“Did Sparky bring you here?”
“Who's Sparky?”
“Sparky is our pet dog.”
“Oh yes. Sparky is my new friend. He told me to follow him home so that I might have a new family.”
“Poo, Rolf! You smell!”
I smile and look down, grinding my toe in the grass. “I'm sorry.”
“I'll go and get you something to eat. You should stay out here so my mummy doesn't see you.”
“Okay.”
Samantha gets of her bike and goes inside. Sparky sits a few feet from me, still licking himself. He looks up at me and growls, showing front teeth worn down from years of chewing at fleas.
“Who's that outside?” I hear someone ask from inside the house.
“That's Rolf,” Samatha says.
“Who is this Rolf?”
“Rolf is Sparky's friend. Sparky brought him home.”
“You know I don't like Sparky bringing people home. What are you doing with those biscuits? And all that milk?”
“Rolf's hungry, mum.”
“Those are my best biscuits! I only baked them this morning!”
“Can't he have just one?”
“I suppose he can have one, but then you have to tell him to get lost.”
“Aw, mummy, can't we keep him?”
“Absolutely not! I won't have this place turned into a layover for vagrants.”
“What's a vagrant?”
“Go and give Rolf his biscuit and milk, and then tell him to go away.”
“But he's lost!”
“Well, we can call the police or something and they can come and pick him up.”
“Mum!”
“No, my decision's final. What would your father think to come home and find a vagrant in the front yard, eating all our best biscuits. You're to give him something to eat but then I'm calling somebody.”
“Okay.”
“What was that?”
“Yes, mother.”
“Good. And be sure to wash your hands after speaking to him.”
The door opens and Samantha comes back out.
“Here you are, Rolf, a nice biscuit!”
“Thank you,” I say.
In the flickering twilight I stand in the front yard, smiling. My new family. I am so happy.
