When she awoke, her back ached. Not in the usual, oh I have a sore back but I’ll have to suck-it-up-princess sort of way, but in the way that made you want to take the entire bottle of Advil and chase it with a drink and cigarette. Unfortunately she didn't have Advil or a drink or a cigarette. She didn't have much of anything. So she grit her teeth and moved on.

Lou wasn't at the ‘house’ as Sara called it fondly. It wasn't a house at all, really, just a lean-to on a side of a tree. However, at least it was something. Better than sleeping on the cold wet ground - instead she got to sleep on a cold floor. She was near the Bow River and you could hear the traffic rushing to her right. She was a hit with a brief yearning to live like that, to be able to complain about how the traffic was bad, sorry I’m late for work boss. Sara had subconsciously began to chew on the inside of her lip again, it was a nervous habit of hers. She stopped and trudged up the hill - there was a gentle slope leading down to the river, the ground pointing down towards it as if saying why don’t you just go for a swim, you’ll be fine, no current, none at all, and the fact you’ll probably die and that you also can’t swim is irrelevant.

Sara was tempted. It would be so easy to just go down the hill and fling herself into the river, just let it all be over. No more struggles, no more freezing nights, no more sore back, no more not being able to land a job. There was nothing, nothing at all that seemed to tie her to this earth except for a little scraggly mutt of a dog named Lou. But Lou had gone off somewhere, and although that wasn’t improbable because she had never been tied up, it was a rare thing for Lou to leave. It made Sara worry, Lou seemed to be the only one she could hold a friendship with. She supposed being a smelly old homeless woman didn't much help her case in trying to get friends.

Sara mounted the crest of the hill and surveyed the area. The little dog was nowhere in sight. And although this was normal, she couldn't help but feel a little trickle of apprehension make it’s way down her back. She followed along the road, heading towards a mall. This was one of her usual places that she scavenged. Sometimes, if she was really lucky someone might drop their wallet or a bit of cash. If you avoided the mall cops, you could also beg. Some of the kinder people even opted to give you a bit of money.

It was a bit of a ways to walk to the mall after you crossed the bridge but Sara was used to walking. Judging from the position of the sun in the sky, it was about ten-ish. Of course the sun being your only guide to the time could be quite inaccurate sometimes, of course the sun wasn't about to yell down at Sara, ‘hey it’s ten o’clock exactly’! Especially on those damn daylight savings days - like how exactly was Sara supposed to know if they thought about adding or subtracting a hour on a certain day if she didn't even have a calendar? Ridiculous. To Sara, the whole business with the way the sun worked and how the universe worked was too complicated for her. She dismissed it for some of the more scholarly type of people.

The parking lot at the mall was packed. What day was it again? Sara tried counting the days on her fingers from the last date she knew but she couldn’t quite figure it out. Saturday? It didn’t matter. All days end in y, so they are pretty much the same. Any differences in them were metaphorical. It didn’t matter to the bees or the birds or the stray mutts (like Lou) what day it was.

She tried her luck going all the way around the mall, her eyes finding their way against the unyielding cement. By the time she made it all the way around the building, she had only found a total of five bucks. It was enough to get her some McDonald’s maybe, some lunch. She was just not having a lucky day. Sara sighed and left the parking lot of the mall.

She felt that settling guilt of anyone who had left a store without buying anything. It’s not like she stole something either, she just felt guilty. Even though she was enormously poor, the freeloader with five bucks to her name, she had resolved to keep some morals. After all, when you didn’t have anything you could still at least have the metaphorical things. And that was good. Even if she disagreed with certain ridiculous metaphorical things. Sara began working her way towards McDonald’s. The nearest one was down the highway a bit, and then she could loop back towards the “house.” Hopefully Lou would join up with her somewhere along the way. Maybe they could share some french fries. A cart, most likely from the mall, was stuck in the ditch. Sara considered picking it up and collecting some cans, becoming “city maintenance” as she had jokingly named the homeless people who picked up carts and filled them with bottles for a bit of extra cash from the recycling centre.. Of course, it would sacrifice the little bit of dignity she had left, at least at first glance most people would maybe think she just had some ratty clothes. If she started pushing a cart around full of cans it would be like waving a flag that said “Hi, look at me, I’m homeless!”. It would be pity inducing for sure. Sara hated being pitied.

The worry for Lou sprung back when she saw a person dressed in yoga pants and one of those LuLuLemon hoodies - the ‘exercise’ ones, walking a well groomed golden retriever. The pair of them were well-dressed and although Sara could never understand the need for labeling certain clothes for certain things, such as fuzzier pants for pajama’s, she had to admit that they both looked good.

Although Sara could have gone down and followed the highway, which was straight and might take a bit longer, she chose to cut through the suburbs. Even though it made her uncomfortable. Respectable people lived here and it should be treated like holy ground, you shouldn’t go through if you weren’t respectable, think of the children! But Sara was hungry, as her belly reminded her with a growl that was extra dramatic. And this way was short. The kids stopped their playing to stare as she passed. Sara considered leering at them. That’ll teach ‘em. But she kept her gaze on the sidewalk and quickened her pace. After all, she had a place in the hierarchy of the city and if you were somewhere you didn’t belong you better hurry up quick or else. But now that Sara thought about it, there really wasn’t much to the ‘or else’. It was an empty threat. It’s like when you say to your kid go to your room but that’s where all the toys are. Meaningless. Sure she’d get suspicious glances that made her uncomfortable but it’s not like she was actually gonna steal anything. Sara had morals.

That made her feel a whole lot better. She slowed her pace a bit. Why should she rush to get out of the nicey nice family place if she wasn’t gonna do anything? It’s not like she was gonna steal a kid or something. And besides, the McDonald’s was in sight and she could almost taste the warm salty fake-ness of the french fries. Her hand dove into her pocket and felt the five bucks. Still there. That was good, or else she would have walked for nearly an hour for nothing. Her back still ached, she noticed with some annoyance. Add that to her list of problems and it was a party. Hip hip hooray I’m homeless. Yay!

Sarcasm made her feel better about her situation. As long as she had a biting joke to throw at herself, it kept her mind occupied. That was a bit opposite for most people, but a lot about Sara was opposite.

When she entered the McDonald’s she could feel all the other, respectable (respectable as you could be sitting in a McDonald’s) people’s eyes on her. What are you doing here? Their gazes seemed to shout. Gonna steal? A protest rose in Sara’s throat but she kept her mouth closed. They hadn’t said anything, it was just her worked up nerves playing games with her. Every time she went somewhere normal people went she felt guilty because she didn’t feel normal. She was an outcast, a vagabond. Sara didn’t belong here. She ordered her quarter pounder with cheese and a water. The water here was technically free, you paid a couple cents for the cup and that was it. She didn’t even want a pop, too sugary she supposed.

She sat down in one of the booths in the unfortunately dirty establishment - seriously, couldn’t they hire her or someone else to clean it up? She’d have to go ask for an application form. Maybe she’d be able to get this job, it certainly wouldn’t buy her a house but at least she’d be able to get food.

As Sara wallowed in her sadness and french fries, a lady came down at sat across from her. One of Sara’s eyebrows rose. People didn’t talk to other people that we didn’t know, we lived in our own comfortable little bubbles. Only a set amount of people were allowed into that bubble, anyone else who wormed their way in, well that was on them. But here this lady was, sitting across from her.

“Hello,” Sara finally managed to say. She was cautious about it too, like she was tip toeing around a minefield apt to blow up. What was this lady doing here? Did she want something? Who just randomly sat with other people in McDonalds? Any normal person just does the smile and nod, Hi-how-are-you and then you move on. But here she was.

“Hi!” She was very cheery, flashing way-to-white teeth. “How are you?”

“I’m good, just eating my meal. Did you order anything?”

“No.”

“Well, why don’t you? And then we can eat together?” And then you can leave me alone for a little bit. Even though Sara felt that she should act annoyed by this intrusion into her bubble, but she felt a longing in her chest for human contact. Even if her introverted ways could help her deal with how utterly and entirely alone she was, she still felt that desperate longing that all humans had to have contact with another human being. The girl got up and flounced her way over to the till, ordering six chicken nuggets. She didn’t walk, everything was about her was way too cheery and overbright as if she was compensating for something. The lack of emotion in her chest? Something she had done in the past? Sara didn’t know, but it certainly intrigued her.

She made her way back over to Sara - still flouncing - and gracefully perched on the dirty booth bench.

“My name is Sophie.” She introduced herself, take a dainty bite out of her french fry. She really wasn’t in a spot she belonged. Sara imagined her in an pink frilly old lady’s house, sipping tea and discussing the latest book for the book club that every classy old lady seemed to have. “Yours?”

“My name is Sara, without the H.” Sara felt the corners of her mouth tug up. “Why is the h there anyway?”

“It’s a mystery.” Sophie replied politely.

“Did the parents just think oh four letters ain’t enough, we got to compensate, lets throw the H in. Does the H suddenly make the word Sara more pretty? Am I inadequate?” Sara knew she was talking too much and it was one of those oh-god-I-made-it-awkward kind of moment.

“I think that the idea that if your name was one letter or shorter or longer it suddenly has a different value than that that was one letter longer or shorter is ridiculous.”

“I’m a very ridiculous person.” Sara countered. Why did Sophie sit with her if she was going to act rude and like Sara was stupid? This was not how you made friends.

“I can be ridiculous sometimes too.” Sophie replied.

“Oh yea?” Sara challenged.

Sophie made a weird face where she scrunched up her nose and stuck out her tongue. Sara chuckled at the fact that this obviously very classy lady was sitting at this obviously classy restaurant - a McDonald’s - making funny faces at a homeless woman. The idea of it was hilariously misplaced. She wasn’t laughing at the face Sophie had made, she was laughing at the idea.

Sophie did a little half smirk that looked entirely out of place, and did a little bow. Well, as much as she could manage with the table in the way. Sara took a few bites of her food. She had to leave soon, Lou would be back at the house and probably wondering where Sara was. But she didn’t want to leave, she could feel the friendship happening between the pair of them. But the urgency of Lou came back to her - she was in charge of that dog, and as much as she wanted to stay and chat, it was unfortunately the bad option here. Loyalty nipped at her heels - go, go, find Lou, she’s gotta eat too. Sara stopped. Lou would be okay. After all, Lou wouldn’t have survived this long if she wasn’t street smart. There’d be food for her, whether it be a caught rabbit or a bit of garbage.

“So, do you have any pets?” Sara asked Sophie, taking a thoughtful bite of her french fry.

“I have a cat.”

“Yea?” Sara imagined her with a fluffy white cat with a flat face - like it got hit with a shovel as a kitten.

“Her name is Pinky. Do you have any pets?” Pinky? Did she dye it pink?

“Yeah, a dog. Her name is Lou. Why Pinky?”

“Well, since she has no fur.”

“A cat without fur?”

“Yeah, she’s really ugly,” Sophie did the most girly snicker Sara had ever seen, “But she’s really sweet, so I love her. What about your dog?”

“Lou? I don’t know what breed she is, I suppose she’s just a mutt.”

“Ah. Why Lou?”

“It sort of suited her, you know? Like how you look like a Sophie.”

“And you look like a Sara.”

“Yup. So do you often come to McDonald’s? No offense but you certainly don’t look like someone who belongs in a McDonald’s.”

“No, not at all really. I just had a craving, you know?”

“For McDonald’s?” It seemed absurd to Sara that if you could afford something better than McDonald’s that you would even think of coming back to this dump. Especially when you looked as classy as Sophie.

“Yup. My mother would have a heart attack.”

“So, do you live with your family then?” Sara prayed to whoever was up there in the sky that this conversation wasn’t about to take an awkward turn. They were sort of running out of topics to talk about, especially when they came from such different places.

“Yeah. Unfortunately.”

“Oh. Why unfortunately?” Sara could have gotten upset at that remark give her the ol’ at-least-you-have-a-house and chew her out. But Sara wasn’t that kind of person and she was sure Sophie would have a good reason for not liking living there - right? It’s not like she’s gonna be all like “because she makes me wash the dishes” and oh time to move out because dishes are for losers. Right?

“My mom is just really restrictive and holds me back. So I try to be a good kid and all, but sometimes a little rebellion is healthy. So I come and eat in the classiest restaurant in Calgary, and talk to complete strangers.”

“A little rebellion is healthy,” Sara agreed, taking another bite of her quarter pounder.

“So why are you here?”

“To eat.”

“Well, duh. But why at McDonald’s?” Sophie asked.

“Can’t afford much else.”

“Well, I figured as much. But don’t the soup kitchens have good food?”

“That’s pretty blunt.”

“Rebellion includes being a bit rude - it feels super liberating. And I’m not about to tiptoe around the fact that you’re homeless because you are homeless, right?”

“Yeah.” Sara’s voice was small. At least Sophie hadn’t been the whole soppy ‘oh my we have to get you help’ type of person. That comment however, made the entire conversation awkward and Sara decided it was high time she left.

“I have to feed my dog.” Lou could take care of herself but it was a pretty good excuse to be able to escape.

“Oh.” Sophie sounded so disappointed it made Sara want to stay. “Same time tomorrow? I’ll pay.”

“Sure.” Sara wasn’t about to turn down a free meal, even if it resulted in another awkward situation. She packed up her garbage and threw a french fry in her mouth. Doing that little awkward half-wave on her way out of the restaurant.

Sara went back to the “house” following the highway. She wondered absently where the little dog had gotten too. Tomorrow she had a secure meal which was new. It seemed like things were finally looking up for her - she had forgotten to grab the application at McDonald’s but she would be there tomorrow to pick it up. Then maybe she could get a job there and save her money up until she could afford a crappy apartment with one bedroom and dingy lighting and it would be great. She trudged along the highway in her own little world, not even registering what she saw. Sara had to stop in her tracks and back up a few steps.

The first thing she thought was “Poor dog, I wonder who the owners are.”

The second thing she thought was “Oh.” Her heart decided to take temporary residence in the bottom of her stomach. Her eyes raked over the shape over and over again, still unbelieving. She ran across the road amidst various honks and wheels screeching to a stop and got on her knees, picking up Lou and gently moving her off the middle of the road. She sat down beside the dog, unsure what to do. How do you take a dog’s pulse? Was she even still alive? Sara didn’t even want to think of that.

A low whine came from deep within Lou’s throat. She was alive! Sara hadn’t thought she was, and with unfortunate decided certainty Lou was going to die. The gouge on the dog’s belly was just too deep, and Sara could never afford a vet bill.

“Lou? You’re gonna be ok.” It was more for Sara than Lou. And Lou would definitely NOT be okay. The blood matting Lou’s belly fur was definite evidence of that. “Ok? You’ll be okay.” She repeated to herself, trying to stop the tears streaking down her face. Lou didn’t make another noise for the couple of hours Sara sat with her. Sara put a hand on the little dog - cold.

It felt as if someone had reached into Sara’s chest and ripped out her heart. There was a gaping hole in her chest and oh god she needed a cigarette. She had to move, you couldn’t just sit there with your hand on a dead dog, and Lou deserved a proper burial. Sara could ‘borrow’ a shovel from a house a couple of blocks away from the river, and dig the hole.

She gently laid Lou near the house, hefting the shovel and digging a small hole. Sara felt her heart being ripped again as she lowered the little figure into the grave.

It was just a little lump of dirt in the ground that used to be her best friend. It needed something else, it was too bare, too businesslike, too clinical. Sara foraged through the woods, picking out three white flowers. She put them in a triangle formation on the highest part of the grave.

Sitting in the lean-too, she contemplated how the world didn’t seem to let her have any good things. Today had almost been a good day. Did she have some kind of bad karma? It seemed to be. To have all this good stuff happen to you, and then to just… lose something so important to you that life didn’t even seem worth it. Some would say “She’s just a dog,” but Lou was so, so much more than that. Every night where Sara would have been alone and freezing she had that scraggly smelly mutt with her to keep her warm.

Oh god - she needed a cigarette.