Old dope and lost hope

He had little idea when he was woken up from an uneasy sleep that the time was four in the morning. After some weeks’ rest, the rain gods had decided to get back to business, springing a rude surprise on the few residents who were enjoying these dry days. From the vantage point on the uncovered top walkway looking up to the stars, he drowsily dawdled down the dusty steps. The dust kept reminding him that this area wasn’t inhabited anymore, not for the last few months at least. How it mattered to him was anyone’s guess, though, as no one knew if he could keep track of time. Those two months could mean a fleeting break, or an ever-lasting epoch. Few could care about what he felt, but anyone who’d have noticed the drooping ears and those longing eyes would know it was the latter.

He cursed the clouds as he unsuccessfully tried to settle into another walkway. Sleep disturbed is like a child ridiculed: it just isn’t the same ever again. Then, a door opened, and through the slowly-fading darkness, he spotted a small light. The noise from the sources nearby suggested familiar revelry. Even though a more rational part of his heart asserted it to be a red herring, his hopeful part convinced him the last two months were just a small break from the routine. He scrambled down the stairs; the very stairs he’d acquainted himself with along with his master, along their many varied sojourns across the land. He’d fed and fondled him, loved and lingered with him. And then he had disappeared, but the reappearance of that light he had so often near his mouth suggested he was back. His delight overpowered reason, and he ran across to the room’s closed door, looking for the mouth holding that light. The smell of another familiar smoke wafted in to his nose, and he was lost again. He was reminded of the first time his master had introduced him to the magical grass. The grass that could be burnt and its smoke inhaled, he remembered light-headedly as he sauntered across to the back door, convinced his master had returned. That feeling of weightlessness was vivid in his memory; he recalled being on top of the world with just one puff of his lungs. The man with the light looked down at him doubtingly, as the sun slowly emerged from its reverie. The dark blue silhouette emerged to be a shorter, leaner man than his master, but his belief was unbroken. He feverishly turned to the open door, looking for the face he looked forward to the most amidst the overhanging layer of magic smoke. The man with the light shouted, and more came out from inside the room; an air of hostility around them. His master wasn’t one of them, but as he tried to walk into to the room to check if he still was in some unseen corner, they kicked him. They shouted curses, some laughed as they threw those very lights at him. The pragmatic part of his mind chose this moment to take over, and his hope was crushed. Beaten, humiliated and crestfallen, he walked out onto the wet grass, feeling slightly cold in the steady drizzle.

Jackie knew Noka had probably left for good.