By daily 
On the edge of a forgotten road, in a place where few pass and even fewer stop, a small puppy lay curled beneath a weathered tree. His fur, once soft and golden, was now rough with dirt, and his belly rumbled with hunger. But the thing that pained him the most wasn’t the emptiness in his stomach—it was the loneliness in his heart.
He had no name, no family, and no home. Days earlier, he had been left here by people he thought would love him forever. They had driven away without looking back, and the puppy, too young to understand why, had run after the car until his tiny legs could carry him no more. His paws ached from the chase, his throat dry from barking for them to stop. But they didn’t hear him—or maybe they just didn’t care.
As the sun set, casting long shadows across the road, the puppy let out a soft, unheard cry. It wasn’t loud enough to echo in the empty air, but it was filled with all the sadness his little body could hold.
But the nights grew longer, colder, and the days stretched endlessly with no sign of help. The puppy’s small frame began to weaken, but his heart, though heavy with despair, held on to the tiniest sliver of hope.