Sometimes I hate my job.

I wouldn’t be here at all if only my editor hadn’t called me demanding photographs of
the accident.

It was a bad one, too. Six car pileup.

I had started taking photos when he caught my eye.

The German Shepherd.

He had glared at me as I continued to click away.

When he went over to his parked bike he had quickly come over and read me the riot act
for taking photos of peoples pain, before he ran back to dealing with the accident.

Forty five minutes and one or two discreet photos later, I spotted him leaning against
a sign removing his boots.

He glanced up at me with his blue eyes and went back to wiggling his toes. A look of
relief on his colourful face, I couldn’t resist taking a photo. Looking at the screen
on the camera I could see that his brown hair had been dyed a blond, as had his short
goatee. But his side burns shaped like lightning bolts also dyed blond made me smile.

Noticing my smile, the paramedic cocked his head and then smiled back.

He put his boots back on and walked over to me.

“Hi, I’m Eric. Sorry about earlier... I thought you were just another blood-and-guts
spotter. You’re a reporter?”

“Yeah, but I don’t cover things like this. Makes me feel sick.”

“Good. Shows you have a conscience. Do you want me give you a interview.”

“Uhh yes, that would be great.”

“Cool.”

I rummaged in my pockets for my note book and looked up to see Eric studying me.

“Oh sorry...didn’t mean to stare,” he had said. “Ummm, don’t mean to be rude but, are
you single.”

I blinked at his forwardness.

“Uhh yes. Why?”

“My shift finishes in a half hour, I could give you that interview over a drink.”

His tail was wagging.

--
Art by me. Story and character created by  fatwolf Commission created for  fatwolf