foot of the bed. Sighing, she sat up, brushing her long brown hair out of her eyes. Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she pushed her feet into the slippers waiting on the floor. She pulled her hair back into a sloppy ponytail.
Skipper was immediately at her side, gazing at her with big brown eyes. She smiled, which was something she didn’t do often, and ran her hand along his silky back. Skipper’s aura was always the calming color of harvest wheat. “Hey, boy,” she said gently.
Ellie counted few blessings, but Skipper was one of the best. He had been a gift from Jake in their better times, and even though she had been angry at him (she was a sworn cat person), the little dog had wormed his way into her heart. When she moved out of Jake’s house, there had been no question that Skipper would go with her.
She moved through the small apartment to her desk, pulled her jacket off her office chair, and headed for the front door, Skipper bounding behind her pushing against the back of her legs, eager to get outside. She swapped her slippers for tennis shoes and pulled her keys from the tray next to the door. Pulling on her coat, she snapped Skipper’s leash on his collar and headed out the door. She didn’t care that she was in pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt under her jacket. It was the crack of dawn, and she wasn’t out to impress anyone.
Ellie lived in the upper level of a house in Uptown not far from Hennepin Avenue and just south of downtown Minneapolis. The house used to be a home for a large, well-to-do family. Now it was compartmentalized into four units, with two apartments on each floor. Her studio apartment was the smaller one on the second level, but it was cozy and the owner didn’t mind dogs. The neighborhood had been quite stylish in the thirties, but these days the houses in the neighborhood had a look of shabbiness about them. Ellie didn’t care. Rent was cheap, the neighborhood was filled with other single working adults so it felt safe, and it was close to several dog-friendly parks and her shop.
She hurried down the back staircase and opened the door to the cool October morning. It wasn’t winter yet, but anyone who had lived in Minnesota for a while knew that it was never too early for snow. Ellie felt the chill and wished for a moment that she had dressed a bit warmer, but the air helped to clear her mind. She needed to forget about the call from Jake.
As Skipper sniffed around the backyard, she looked up at the barren trees and gray sky and felt a sense of emptiness. That feeling had become part of her regular routine. Skipper started tugging on his leash and she followed. He knew the way. Each morning they took a short stroll around a portion of Lake Calhoun, which was only a few blocks away. The crisp air should have soothed her nerves, but for some reason this morning she was jumpy. She was annoyed to know that Jake could still have this type of impact on her.
“I haven’t even had any coffee yet,” she explained to Skipper. He stopped for a moment and looked at her with somber eyes, and she felt like he was asking her to keep her misery to herself and let him enjoy his walk.
As they approached the lake, several joggers passed by. Ellie knew some of them by sight and was secretly envious of their motivation, sleek physiques, and calm blue auras.
Ellie knew that if she told someone that she could tell their mood instantly because she could see their aura, they would dismiss her as a crazy kind of crackpot. This was the reason she never told anyone about it. Ellie had been able to see those brilliant colors since she was little, and it took her a long time to realize that she was the only one that could see them. She started seeing them around the time her parents died, when she was thrust alone into a cruel and unforgiving world. It wasn’t a world where she wanted to be different.
A few of the joggers waved at Skipper, and she started to feel self-conscious about her