Canela watched every step he took, her eyes following him like she was measuring whether humans could be trusted again.
When Miguel returned, Lupita had wrapped the pale puppy inside the corner of her sweater.
She was breathing on him softly, again and again, with the patience of someone afraid to move too fast.
The other puppies made faint sounds inside the box, their bodies pressed together like folded socks in the dirty rags.
Canela lowered her muzzle over them, but her eyes kept returning to the bracelet on the floor.
Miguel noticed that every time Lupita ali looked at it, the dog’s ears flattened against her head.
“It came from somewhere,” Miguel said. “Someone put it in that box, or someone lost it near her.”
