"You really are kind of a mess, aren't you?"

(You and me both, dog.)

He flops onto his side and rolls over to show me his belly. It makes me smile.

"Hey! You can't be over there!"

I jerk my hand back so fast you would've thought I'd been burned, and I scramble to my feet. Dog startles and scuttles to the back of his kennel. A blue-shirted employee—not a volunteer—female but with broad shoulders, a ponytail, and thick eyebrows, is frowning at me. I recognize her from months of coming here.

"That's a law-suit waiting to happen, kid. Those dogs are quarantined. Can't you read?"

Blushing, I slip beneath the rope again, staring at my feet. "Sorry. I was just...that dog..."

"Isn't available yet."

"I know, but—what's his story?"

She inclines her head to look over my shoulder. "Someone found him on the side of the road and brought him in."

"With his leg already messed up?"

"Yep. The vet thinks he broke it and it never got looked at, so it healed wrong and...well, looks like that." She folds her arms. I think her name must be Bertha or Dottie or something. She looks like a Dottie. "He's still under a doctor's care for that ear of his. If you're interested, give the front desk your information and we'll call you."

"No, that's not it." I walk alongside her as she leads me out of the kennels, casting glances over my shoulder even after I can't see the dog anymore. "I was just dropping off some paperwork..."

"For an adoption?"

"A job."

She stops. I stop. She squints. It dawns on me that being caught in an off-limits area was probably not the best first impression to make if I want to work here. Grimacing, I offer out the application I've been carting around. The edge is a little crinkled from how tight I've been holding it. The lady takes it, skims over the first page, and then gives me a weird look.

"You ever had work before?"

I shake my head no.

"Then why should I give you a job?"

It takes everything I have not to respond with You shouldn't. Sorry for wasting your time. I bite sharply at the inside of my cheek. The pain blossoming there makes me focus a bit, drags me away from the edge of an anxiety-attack.

"Because I've been coming here for two years to spend time with the dogs anyway, so you might as well put me to use."

A smile tugs at her mouth. Very briefly. She waves the papers. "We'll be in touch."

She leaves me standing outside the kennels and I'm not sure if I nailed that, or completely and utterly failed it. For that reason, I'm not so sure I'm going to mention this to anyone just yet. I don't want Adam getting his hopes up, then being disappointed when he finds out I didn't get the job.

His bike is chained up outside when I get back to the apartment. I still get the weirdest little feeling in my stomach when I see it there, knowing Adam comes home every single night to be with me. We always eat dinner together, even if we aren't very good cooks and usually order out to spare ourselves the embarrassment of making crappy meals. We watch movies on the laptop, or play games on my tiny television.