He reached the edge of the lawn, panting, chest tight. Under the yellow glow of a streetlamp, he spotted it: a massive tree standing alone in the middle of the open grass, branches arching wide like an umbrella. The leaves shimmered faintly in the light. It had to be the one.
He slowed near the base, scanning the ground, the nearby bushes, anything that might hold a trace of her. “Lola,” he whispered at first, stepping closer. Nothing. The night answered only with wind and rustling branches. His heart sank. “Lola!” he called again, louder this time. Still nothing.