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“Thanks, Mom,” he whispered.
After that, it became their ritual.
Sometimes, I’d catch a glimpse of them from across the street. Buddy would wag his tail the second Eli came into view.
Eli would sit beside him, talking softly like the dog could understand every word.
He never told anyone. Not a word. It was just their little thing.
But, as with all things in small towns, secrets don’t last long.
I overheard it first at the grocery store.
“That Turner boy’s feeding strays again,” a woman muttered near the canned soup aisle.
“Sweet, but kind of odd, don’t you think?” her friend replied.
I just smiled and kept walking.
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