The puppy stirred a little, curling tighter into the warmth of his chest. Her small body breathed in a rhythm that calmed his own, as if she understood this was a fragile sort of morning.
When he stepped onto the cobbled path, his boots brushed against slick patches where dew clung to the stones. The city hadn’t quite woken. There was a hush to it—not silence exactly, but that in-between quiet just before life picked up again.
He turned toward the small patch of grass near the practice—the one sunlight reached first. The melody he’d been humming returned, stubborn and unfinished. Somewhere, bells rang the hour. Seven. Softer here than atKarlskirche, but the echo pulled at something inside him all the same.
He crouched beside the puppy and placed her gently on the grass. One hand stayed close, palm hovering near her back.
She blinked at the world, tilting her head, ears flopping slightly. Then she looked up at him, wide-eyed, uncertain.
“Don’t you need to do anything here?”
Tentatively, she scraped the toe of his boot with a whimper, like she wanted permission.
But nothing came out.
“Think of rain.”
With her big brown eyes, she just stared up at him.
“River bends. Waterfalls. Ocean waves?”
Nothing.
“Well, I can hardly show you what to do!”
She bent down and picked up her tiny front paws, one at a time, as if to tell him that the wet grass was pricking her delicate soles.
“A small creek, perhaps? Or drops trickling from leaves?”
She squealed and clumsily came to the tip of his boot and scraped it.
Felix chuckled lightly, the sound low but kind. “Alright, I’ll carry you,” he said, scooping her up again. “But you have to tell me when it’s time to find a patch of grass, please.” She settled almost instantly, her face burying itself against the warmth of his chest beneath his open coat.
“You know, one day, when you’re much bigger, you’ll have to do things on the grass, alright? And then we’ll run together.”
He smiled faintly at the idea. A gentleman wouldn’t, of course—but he’d never been one. Not in the way that counted. Thus, he could run and exercise as much as he wanted—where else could the pent-up energy go otherwise?
He took a breath, filling his lungs with the crisp air. “Just at the birth of a new day, the air is freshest. And if we wake up before six o’clock, it’s thevatatime in Ayurveda. I learned about this in India. It’sfar away, but it was worth going.” He hesitated, voice quieter. “Coming back was the hard part. I lost someone very dear while I was away.” His fingers brushed the pup’s tiny back, holding her closer. “In fact, I came home to find her name gone. Her place swept clean.”
Like she’d never been real.
But this wasn’t something to burden a little creature with. She barely filled the crook of his arm. He kept walking. “So, what I’m trying to teach you is that rising early aligns with the rhythms of the world. Helps you breathe clearer. Think straighter.”
The puppy didn’t stir.
“One day, when you don’t need to nap after every meal, you’ll run early in the morning with me, alright?”
He paused, catching himself.
“You’re just a baby, though, aren’t you?”
So had he been—when he thought skill alone could excuse what he’d done. When he used the gold-in-porcelain on Alfie without asking. As if excellence meant permission. As if being right was enough.
The street stretched ahead, empty but for the long cast of his shadow. He let his feet choose the way.
Once the puppy slept again, her breath came warm against his chest, a delicate weight tucked beneath his coat. Felix kept walking, each step measured, the cold brushing his face, loosening the restless knots that hadn’t left him since he woke.
“I’ll teach you to run really fast with me one day,” he murmured, glancing down at the tiny dog. She’d slipped back into sleep, her face slack with dreams, her paws limp in the makeshift muslin swaddle he’d tied awkwardly but snugly against his chest.
