Things seemed to have died down, to which you are thankful. While still being a dog, you intend to keep up your job. You take your old, beat up cart full of mail, and continue your stroll across the desert.
You walk back to the station after your last encounter. Hopefully nothing unexpected will happen and oh zombie god there’s another one. You run out again and start going in a random direction. You wonder if sand is comfortable to sleep on.
You had raised your hand to wave, but only got to see him run away in response. Does he not remember you? Surely he must! The thought that one of your friends could forget you…No. We won’t get into that.