She even placed her old hoodie beside it, hoping the scent would guide Nina home. She woke up every hour to check. But each time, the bowl remained untouched. By morning, she was stapling posters to telephone poles. “Missing Kitten – Nina – Small, White, No Collar– Very Friendly” She printed them on pale blue paper so they’d stand out.
Taped one to the community board at the grocery store. Handed a few to dog walkers. Even slid one under the windshield wiper of a delivery truck. People were kind. They promised to keep an eye out. One woman swore she’d seen a white blur dart across her backyard two streets over. Lisa rushed there, calling Nina’s name until her throat burned. Nothing.