I dreamed the claim was still open

I was back in the office, not the one I left, but a version of it where all the files were stacked by hand—no digital trace. The air smelled like old paper and faintly of rain on concrete. I found a folder labeled 'Vance, B. – Unresolved' with my name on it, and inside, a single photo: my dog, years dead, sitting at the foot of a porch step, looking up as if waiting for me to come home. I didn’t open it. I just stood there, and then woke up with my hand still reaching toward the nightstand, like I was trying to close a file that never should’ve been left open.