Snow was a dog had white fur stood out in the drab urban landscape, and his eyes, one blue and one green, gave him an otherworldly appearance. He was a beautiful dog, but in a world obsessed with conformity, his uniqueness was a curse.
Today was his birthday, a day filled with hope and longing. He’d seen other dogs celebrated, showered with affection and gifts. But he was different. His otherworldly appearance had earned him more stares than smiles, more fear than affection.
As the day wore on, Snow wandered the streets, his heart heavy with disappointment. He longed for a simple act of kindness, a gentle pat, a warm word. But the world was indifferent, its inhabitants more focused on their own lives than on the plight of a unique dog.
As the sun began its descent, casting long, mournful shadows, Snow found a sheltered spot beneath a discarded cardboard box. The city’s cacophony faded, replaced by the quietude of the night. He curled up, his white fur blending with the shadows. He was alone, a ghost in a world that valued ordinary beauty.
He dreamed of a world where he was accepted, where his differences were celebrated. But when he woke, the harsh reality of his existence would be waiting. His birthday, a day filled with hope and longing, had turned into a day of solitude and despair.
