WITH A HEAVY HEART | LEAVING, PIP NEEDED

[GARRETT]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Restlessness has taken root in Garrett's chest, a fear that bubbled up from between his ribs slowly taking over. He worried after the smallest of things, but also the biggest. His parents, his family, what he was going to do with himself. This place wasn't right for him, and what he needed wasn't something he could find. For the most part, the dog had done what he'd could to just stay out of the way. If he didn't bother people, they wouldn't bother him. At least this way he was out from under their paws. So he spent his time with robots instead. Now when he says robots, he doesn't mean robots. They don't move, but his mother had taught him how to tinker as soon as his eyes were open and he could listen. His paws followed her much larger steps. Although he's jealously guarded the few pieces of her work he has left in his satchel, creating and meticulously destroying just to start again later, there was one that he held on to. It wasn't even a robot, really. But it was important.

As he sits and thinks, the dog presses a paw absently against the small, mostly-healed wound on his leg. All that's left is to regrow the patch of fur, which will probably come with time. He'd meant this to be a thank you for that, but anxiety had swallowed him up. Until now — maybe because if it wasn't now, he'd leave and it'd be all over. He's gonna leave anyway. At least this way Pip'll know that he appreciated it. (It would seem so silly to anyone else, heart tripping up and throat going tight over gentle paws and a bandage.) He heads towards the last place he'd seen the other dog, fidgeting a bit and shifting his shoulders until the bag falls to a more comfortable position. It's obvious what his plans are, with the way he stands and what he wears, but he can't seem to get the words out right away. "Hey Pip?"