In the shadowy corners of a city that had long since stopped caring, a small dog named Brady wandered unnoticed. His body was weak, malnourished, and trembling with every step.
Once, he might have been a playful puppy, full of life and innocence. But now, he was barely more than a ghost of what could have been—a being molded by pain and shaped by suffering.
Brady didn’t bark for attention. He didn’t beg loudly. Instead, he moved silently from alley to alley, hoping for a scrap of food or a moment of peace. Yet the world had grown cold to his presence.
The people who crossed his path didn’t see a creature in desperate need. They saw something else—something ugly, something broken, something they wished would disappear.
And so, Brady endured. Day after ay. Night after night.