Matt

“We should head home,” Matt said, looking at me as we strolled along the pavement. We had been out for a walk when it started to rain. “We can cut through here,” he said, pointing ahead of us. Matt and I began walking faster and turned the corner down a dark alley. The sky was now a dull grey. All of a sudden, a low voice came from behind us.

“Gi’mme your wallet,” the voice said. We turned around and were met with a scrawny man, probably in his 30s, wearing dark jeans and a black hoodie with at least a dozen cigarette-sized holes in it. My heart was racing and I swear I could hear Matt’s heart racing, too.

“Now,” the man snapped, his face shrouded by the shadow of his hood. Both of his hands fiddled with something in the front pocket of his sweater.

“C’mon, dude,” Matt said, trying to walk away. The man took a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Matt.

“Hey, man,” Matt said, putting his hands up in defense. “Take it easy.” I could only see the man’s chin, but it was full of pockmarks. He aimed the gun at Matt’s face. His hand was shaking. He seemed more nervous than us.

“Gim’me your wallet,” he demanded again, steadying the pistol. “Gi’mme everything.” Matt began rifling through his pockets. He handed over his wallet and cell phone. He was panting heavily. We both were.

“Hurry up,” the man said, poking Matt in the chest with his gun. Matt took off his watch and fished a few quarters out of his jacket pocket, then handed them over. I wanted to help, so I opened my mouth to speak, but Matt put his hand out to silence me.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” He turned out his pockets to show the man he had given him everything.

“The ring,” the man said, pointing the gun at Matt’s left hand. “Hand it over.” Matt’s face fell.

“Please,” Matt pleaded. “It’s my wedding ring.” Matt’s wife had died six months ago. Since then, Matt and I had become inseparable.

“Don’t care,” the man said, pointing the gun back at Matt’s face. “Gi’mme it. Now.” The man was growing more aggravated by the second.

“You don’t understand,” Matt began. Before he could utter another word, a loud bang sounded through the alley. I watched in horror as Matt’s lifeless body fell to the ground. The scrawny man with pockmarks knelt down and snatched Matt’s wedding ring off his hand.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered before turning around and running down the dark alley. I stood there, my fur damp from the rain, hopeful that somebody would hear my frantic barking.