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Sunday 7 April 2019

Short Story Sunday: Sakharov Gardens


"Come on, Rolf."

Ali looked on as the hound ignored her summons and continued digging his way to China -- or so it would seem. She wouldn't normally have minded, but they were in the public gardens and she didn't think the municipality would take kindly to having to fill in the craters he was creating at alarming speed. She tugged harder on the leash.


"Heel, boy!"

The voice came from behind them and Rolf abandoned his task, sitting guiltily at Ali's feet.

"I'm sorry about my dog," Ali began. "He just loves digging." She shrugged, hoping they would get away with a warning and a friendly smile.


"I know. I've been watching you."