Three Blocks to Forever

Marcus was running late. Again. His Vans slapped against the pavement in that uneven rhythm that happens when you're half-walking, half-sprinting and trying to look casual about it. His phone buzzed in his pocket—probably Maya wondering where the hell he was.

The orange backpack bounced against his spine, containing everything he needed for the beach trip: towels, snacks, and that crucial extra hoodie because Maya was always cold. She'd texted him at 7 AM: *dont forget the takis this time*.

Three blocks. He'd make it.

Marcus skidded around the corner near the old palm tree that everyone in their grade had carved their initials into at some point. He slowed, breath catching in his throat. There was someone sitting under it.

A dog. A golden retriever, chill as anything, watching him with what Marcus could've sworn was a smirk.

"Hey, buddy," Marcus said, stepping closer. "You lost?"

The dog's tail thumped once. That was it. No owner in sight. Just this perfect, good boy casually posted up like he owned the neighborhood.

Marcus checked his phone. Maya was calling now.

"You're SEVEN minutes late," she said before he could even say hello. "I'm literally standing on the corner with everyone and they're all looking at me like I got stood up."

"I'm close," Marcus said. "But there's a situation."

"A situation?"

"There's a dog."

Silence. Then: "A dog?"

"He's just... sitting here. Under the palm tree. No collar. Someone's gonna steal him, Maya. He's too perfect."

"Marcus. I love you. But if you don't get here in three minutes, I'm leaving without you."

Marcus looked at the dog. The dog looked at Marcus.

"What do you think, man?" Marcus whispered. "You got people? Or am I about to ruin my whole summer?"

The dog stood up, stretched elaborately, and trotted over to Marcus like they'd already discussed this and come to an agreement.

"Yeah," Marcus said. "Yeah, okay."

He texted Maya: *running to u. bringing a plus one. explain later.*

His friend would kill him. His mom would kill him. But sometimes you find something on the way to where you're going, and suddenly where you're going doesn't matter as much as what you've found.

Marcus started running, orange backpack jangling, and the golden retriever kept pace beside him like they'd been doing this together forever.