No Drooling on Friends

Across from the shelter, the van sat with its side doors wide open, with a black dog standing guard, although it appeared the pup was smiling. Inside, a short, stocky older man laced with tattoos stared at me.I moved closer. “Hi, I’m Pam. Would you like a Gatorade?”“No, I don’t like power drinks.”“But, this is an ice-cold drink. It would refresh you.”“Is it that cold?”“Yes, so cold … just try it…