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Rutvij Tope Rutvij Tope


The old man huddled closer. The canine whimpered and watched him, eyes wide and chin rested upon the bench. He sat beside it, and stroked its neck; it was soft. And warm. Soft fur ruffled between his fingers. Wrapped around its neck was a broad striped collar – a single rusting medallion dangling from it. “Blaze?” asked the old man, inspecting the medallion closely. “A nice name.” Blaze blinked, uninterested. “I had a dog once too,” said the old man, crossing his legs under the dim street lamp that flickered above. “Teddy was his name. A German Shepherd,” he laughed, scratching his neck. “Just like you.” Blaze whimpered softly at the sound of his name. “He was, I must confess, rather livelier than you, though,” he chuckled. Blaze blinked. “Ah, those days. They were so different, so much better I must say.” The old man looked around despicably. This new…