I hear the howling at night. It wakes me sometimes. I think, I must speak to them. They should know that these apartments are too small to leave a dog in for long. But no one has heard of anyone getting a dog.
I walk through the snow to the Metro, feed my hard coins into the metal machine and take my ticket. I find myself thinking, oh, I must get two, but, of course, there isn’t anyone else. I look behind me, just to check. Yes, on my own, as usual.
Over time, I get used to the feeling of company, hold the door open at work just a little longer than it takes me to get inside. I pick food off my plate and hold it, wondering what I was going to do with it, before slowly eating it and licking my fingers. I murmur things, not quite to myself.
I work, I eat, I sleep. Same as ever.
One night after work, instead of getting on the Metro, I walk to the park. I sit on a bench near the boating pond, hunched over for warmth, but the cold is settled so deep it doesn’t help. Behind me, the sun is setting, casting a glow on the windows in the grey building opposite.
It’s on fire, I whisper. The people don’t know, but they’re all going to perish and blow away in the night. I look at the pond, and I know I have to find a deeper one.
Then there is movement at my side and I see it. Startled, I can’t move. My heart, already beating in panic, starts to hurt. The wolf just looks at the pond, and the last boy trying to get his boat out with a long stick. There are other cold people on benches, trying not to go home. No one else notices the wolf.
I’m just imagining it, I think, but I see its fur move as it breathes and I smell it, pungent, overwhelming. It smells both death-bearing and full of life, beyond my imagination.
Maybe it doesn’t know I’m here. I push myself along the bench with my frozen hands, away from the teeth and the fur, but it looks so warm and soft. Now the sun has almost used up the last of its heat and my fists hurt with the cold.
The wolf turns to me. ‘Eva, I am with you,’ he says.
I think then, I’ve gone mad. Too long by myself. People were right to talk about me.
I stand, a little unsteadily, and walk towards the Metro station. I don’t look around. I can feel him by my side, smell his warmth and hear the panting. As I walk, my shoulders straighten and fall back. People move for me. My steps become a stride. I arrive at the station entrance and I don’t want to go inside, I don’t want to stop.
I look down at my wolf and he looks up at me with cool, blue eyes. I hold my hand to his muzzle. He licks it, lets me run my fingers over his skull, through the heat of the universe. He yawns, showing his teeth, and I nod. I have always heard the howling.
I take off my shoes and coat, roll up my trousers, and we run.