Manja was a six-year-old dog, a survivor in a world that cared little for its forgotten souls. His life was a monotonous cycle of scavenging, finding shelter, and enduring the indifferent gaze of passersby. Today, his sixth birthday, was no different.
There were no birthday parties, no presents, no loving pats. Instead, there was the harsh reality of street life. Hunger gnawed at his belly, the cold seeped into his bones, and loneliness was a constant companion. Yet, amidst the bleakness, a strange longing had emerged. He craved something sweet, something to celebrate this unwanted milestone. A cake.
He remembered the birthday cakes of his youth, the sweet scent of icing, the taste of sugary delight. It was a distant memory, a phantom of a life long gone. But today, the desire for something sweet was overwhelming. He imagined a cake, covered in colorful sprinkles, with a single candle flickering in the center.
As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the city, Manja found a quiet spot beneath a bridge. The world was hushed, save for the distant rumble of traffic. He closed his eyes, his mind filled with images of a cake, a symbol of joy and celebration. In this moment of solitude, he was a king dreaming of a feast.
But when he opened his eyes, reality was as harsh as ever. There was no cake, no celebration, just the cold, hard ground and the promise of another day. Yet, even in the face of disappointment, a flicker of hope remained. Perhaps tomorrow, he would find something sweet, a small victory in a world that offered little joy.
