Bin was a dog of shadows. His world was a mosaic of sounds and scents, a constant negotiation with the unseen. A car accident had stolen the sight from one of his eyes, leaving him to navigate a world that was both familiar and alien.
Today was his birthday, a fact he was oblivious to. Birthdays were for those with homes, with families who sang songs and baked cakes. Bin was a street dog, a solitary figure in a bustling city. His days were a repetitive cycle of scavenging, finding shelter, and avoiding the harsh realities of street life.
He spent his days exploring his territory, relying on his keen sense of hearing and smell. The world was a symphony of noises, from the distant rumble of traffic to the closer chirps of birds. He could sense the world around him, but he couldn’t see it. This made him wary, always on guard against unseen threats.
As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows that he couldn’t see, Bin found a quiet spot beneath a bridge. The city lights were a distant constellation, offering no warmth or comfort. He curled into a ball, his breath misting in the cold air. He dreamed of a world filled with colors, of a gentle hand petting his fur, of a warm home to call his own. But when he woke, reality was as harsh as ever.
His birthday passed without fanfare, a mere blip in the relentless march of time. He was a survivor, a creature adapted to a world that offered little kindness. Yet, in the depths of his canine heart, there was a flicker of hope, a belief that perhaps one day, someone would see beyond his disability and offer him a chance at a different life.
