Chapter 3: The Empty Sidewalk
The van drove away empty.
Its red taillights vanished into the winter dark, leaving him and Hazel on the concrete as if mercy had come with conditions too cruel to accept. I stood there for a long moment, holding a second cup of coffee that had already gone cold.
By morning, they were still there.
By the next week, the city seemed to fold itself around them again. Commuters stepped over the edge of his blanket. Teenagers laughed too loudly near the door. The laundromat machines kept spinning, swallowing quarters and grief with the same metallic rhythm.
Then, one morning, they were gone.
No sleeping bag. No cardboard sign. No man beneath the broken light. No orange cat tucked against his chest.
For three days, I searched that corner with my heart clenched tight. I told myself maybe someone had finally helped him. But in this city, people did not vanish gently.
They were usually removed…
Chapter 4: Hazel Came Back Alone
On the fourth morning, I saw a flash of orange near the bus stop.
Hazel sat beneath the bench, perfectly still, her torn ear tilted toward me. She did not run when I stepped closer. She did not hiss or hide. She simply stared with an intensity that made my breath catch.
It felt like a summons.
“Where is he?” I whispered.
Hazel turned and walked away.
