Ruffles stirred in his wicker basket as the door was slowly pushed ajar. The old, chocolate Labrador yawned, and then watched through tired eyes as Emmy tip-toed across the cold, stone floor.
At the window she paused. This had always been her favourite time of the day: the dawn mists rising over the barn; a slither of red sky beyond the southern cornfields. For just a moment she hesitated, before propping up the white envelope against a bowl of apples on the kitchen table.
Picking up the small suitcase, she turned to Ruffles and smiled. Perhaps a heavy heart, but no tears, as Emmy slipped quietly out the back door.
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.