That's when I saw it.
In the far back corner, tucked behind a cracked flowerpot and an old rake, was what looked like a nest. It was not made of twigs or garbage, but of clothing. Soft, familiar clothing.
I crept closer, my heart climbing into my throat.
There, neatly arranged in a pile, were Lily's things! Her purple scarf, her blue hoodie, the soft white cardigan she hadn't worn since second grade — and nestled into them, as if swaddled by her memory, was a thin calico cat. Her belly rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic purr. Curled up against her were three tiny kittens, no bigger than teacups.
Her belly rose
and fell in a slow,
rhythmic purr.
Continued on the next page
