The sky was a dull gray, casting a somber mood over the quiet streets as a small, scruffy dog limped through the damp alleys, shivering as the cold bit at his bones. He was just another shadow in a city of busy people who didn’t notice him, a homeless soul drifting through empty spaces, searching for something he didn’t have—a place to belong. For as long as he could remember, he had wandered these streets alone, his life a constant struggle for food, for warmth, for safety.

Today, though, was different. Today was his birthday—something no one but he would know. In his heart, he knew he didn’t have a real reason to celebrate, no cozy home or soft bed waiting for him, no friendly face or warm hands to reach down and stroke his head. As he watched people hurry by with their own beloved dogs trotting proudly beside them, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of deep loneliness. Those dogs had homes to go to, warm places to sleep, people who loved them. But he didn’t. He never did.

He thought back, searching his memories for some trace of a life that felt safe, but all he could remember was being a very small puppy, abandoned on a rainy night much like this one. Since then, he’d learned to fend for himself, relying on scraps of food left behind, on the kindness of strangers who would occasionally toss him a piece of bread, or pat him briefly on the head before moving on. That fleeting affection was all he knew of love, and he clung to those small moments, replaying them in his mind as he lay alone under an old cardboard box or beside a cold trash bin at night.

As the day wore on, he trudged through the streets, his tail dragging in the dirt, his fur matted and wet from the rain. He tried to pretend he didn’t mind, that the emptiness inside him wasn’t so painful. But every so often, he’d catch a glimpse of a dog with its family, a happy dog running in a park or wagging its tail as its owner opened the door to let it inside. That sight would always remind him of what he longed for most: someone to come home to, someone who’d call his name, offer him food, and give him the love he’d only dreamed of.

The evening grew darker, and the streets grew emptier, yet here he was—alone again. His birthday had come and would soon go, leaving him with nothing but his memories and his hopes. He found a small, quiet spot by the side of an old building and curled up on the cold ground, pulling his paws close to his chest as if that could somehow make the loneliness hurt less. He lay there, his tired eyes watching the distant lights of a warm house, his heart quietly aching for a life he had never known.

As he closed his eyes, he whispered a silent birthday wish—not for a feast or a gift, but for a family, a warm bed, a kind hand. For a home where he could rest, where he could finally feel like he belonged. And though he knew it was just a dream, just a tiny flicker of hope, he held onto it, hoping that someday, somehow, his wish would come true.

For now, though, he would sleep alone under the open sky, dreaming of a tomorrow where he wouldn’t have to.