For years he’d asked his parents for a dog. That and a guitar were all he ever wanted. His parents had eventually given in and gave him the puppy for his birthday. The dog meant the world to him. He was Nolan’s first and only pet. Then one day after school we returned to his house to take the puppy for a walk together. Normally Lucky would bound to the front door as soon as he heard Nolan unlock it. Not so this time. We searched the place, becoming more worried as the seconds ticked by. After what had felt like an eternity, we found Lucky in the backyard. Lying on the ground. Not breathing. For the longest time after Nolan fell asleep, I watched him. He looked so fragile, like he had the day we’d found his puppy dead. My heart broke seeing him this way. I knew his tour had been grueling. Who wouldn’t be exhausted after all the touring the band had done during the past year? Now that it was over and he had time to recover, he should’ve looked different. Refreshed. But instead he looked as though he still wasn’t sleeping much.
