In the quiet hours of the night, when the city streets were empty except for the occasional taxi, something unusual shattered the peace. A wild wolf padded into a 24-hour pharmacy, its fur dusted with dirt. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly as the wolf moved forward, drawing gasps from the lone pharmacist behind the counter. Customers froze, their everyday errands forgotten as the presence of the animal turned a mundane scene into something surreal.
The pharmacist, a man in his late thirties named Mark, had seen his fair share of odd late-night visitors. Drunk partygoers, insomniacs desperate for sleep aids, even the occasional street performer in need of bandages. But a wolf? That was new. His instinct told him to stay still, to avoid provoking it. But then he noticed something that made him reconsider. The wolf wasn’t aggressive, its posture was calm, its eyes searching. And when it glanced back toward the door, Mark followed its gaze.
Beyond the glass entrance, just outside on the sidewalk, something small and fragile lay curled up, a tiny baby animal, trembling in the cold. The wolf turned back to Mark, taking a slow step backward as if urging him to follow.