“Thanks,” Lisa said, surprised by how hoarse her voice sounded. The girl hesitated. “I hope you find her. She looked sweet.” Lisa replied, “She was.” Was. Lisa hated how easily the past tense slipped out. On the fifth day, just as Lisa began to accept the possibility that Nina might never come back, her doorbell rang.
It was a man she didn’t know well, Kevin, who lived on the next block, always wore cargo shorts and walked with a limp. He looked grim. “You still looking for your cat?” he asked. Lisa’s heart stuttered. “Yes.” He exhaled, scratched his chin.