War Dog

“I came face to face with a mercenary the other day.

He was resting on the stairs of the shelled school,

and, beside him, a dog.

Their bodies were scarred, battle wounds old and new. The canine’s black fur matched the coal black greatcoat of the soldier.

He picked up a can of jerky, divided it equally and gave half to the dog.

They left moments later, paying no heed to the beggars along the road.”