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Paul goes for a run before work. The sun is coming up, the streets are quiet, and it’s almost peaceful.
He wishes he at least had Beau to run with, and wonders if it’s worth thinking about getting another dog. He’s been pining about dog jogging for over a year. But Todd is territorial and doesn’t need the attention a dog would, so maybe it’s best things stay as they are.
On the corner he gets flagged down by one of his neighbors, a grandfatherly man named Tom. Paul stops to say hello; Tom is the opposite of the stereotypical Los Angeles experience in so many ways and has always been amusing to interact with.
They exchange pleasantries in a way that’s reflex, but Paul now recognizes as a struggle. The human impulse to tell the truth when asked how he’s doing is something clearly not
