I never intended to board that train. After a sleepless night outside my ex’s house, I impulsively booked a last-minute vacation, almost deciding to go back to him despite everything I promised myself.

I packed my bags, grabbed the first ticket out of town, and hoped for a fresh start—a change of scenery to escape the sadness.

Then, I saw him.

A golden retriever sat on the seat, calm and confident. His owner sipped coffee, chatting with a woman across from me. The dog locked eyes with me, and I felt strangely understood.

“He’s very social,” his owner said, noticing my gaze.

The dog’s stare was comforting, as though he knew I was barely holding it together. He got up, padded over, and placed his chin on my leg.

I froze, but the dog didn’t care. It was like he was saying, “It’s okay.” I found myself talking to him quietly, sharing everything I hadn’t told anyone.

At the station, the owner invited me to join them for a weekend at a cabin by Lake Crescent. I hesitated but felt drawn to say yes.

Over the weekend, I healed. I shared my story, and Sam, the owner, reminded me, “Sometimes walking away is the bravest thing you can do.”

Sometimes, the smallest gestures—like a wagging tail—can help you find peace and healing.