That night, the rain finally relented, leaving a damp chill in the air. Eliza walked the perimeter of her yard, shining the new flashlight under the crawlspace. Darkness yawned back at her. No movement, no glowing green eyes. She sat on the back step, tears blurring her vision, whispering, “Orion, where are you?”
Fatigue consumed her, yet sleep felt impossible. Instead, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The hush of late-night Maplewood pressed in on her. Then she heard it: a meow, so faint she could barely discern it over the hum of the refrigerator. Bolting upright, she strained to listen again. Silence. She rubbed her eyes, convinced it was another illusion.