It was funny when I first found him. He was huddled off in a dark corner behind some aged wooden tables with sewing machines on them, not the most appropriate place for a swiss chocolatier to be.
They thwart the blame away from the dog(that fucking dog), these new faces do. The old man, the cowboy, and now the chocolatier.
Still lying underneath the thin sheets(layers), the dog continues to hide, to lie, and to regret. He has no time for blame.
The only thing left to do is wait, things have almost come full circle.