Found Mango rummaging through the dumpster in the alley behind Brew & Bound, covered in yesterday's coffee grounds and leftover muffin crumbs. Had to haul him back to my apartment and give him three baths in the tub before he looked like a dog again. Now he's wrapped in my blanket, snoring on that goddamn guest bed I specifically set up for someone, while I'm stuck on the couch writing the goddamn quarterly report. This 'accidental cohabitation' feels so damn weird—the first guest in my meticulously decorated room is this scruffy mutt. ...But at least he doesn't wake up in the middle of the night asking in a shaky voice, 'Are you going to leave me?' He doesn't pack me lunches and secretly check my phone's location. He just wants food and a warm place to sleep. So damn simple. Sometimes I think getting someone's undivided attention is harder than running a chain of cafés. Especially when your competition isn't another 'person,' but an entire gentle cage woven from fear and dependency. Oh, and the guest room smells like dog now. Next time you come over, you'll probably have to sleep in the master bedroom. Of course, my bed is big.