Rumors moved quietly through the neighborhood, just as Samantha stood motionless on her porch. “He was just here,” she kept whispering, as if saying it enough times would reverse what had happened. Neighbors watched from their driveways, eyes wide with pity, none quite sure what to do or say.
That afternoon, she gathered Pablo’s best photo—the one where he was perched by the daisies—and printed several copies. LOST BUNNY. REWARD OFFERED. She walked from block to block, pinning them to poles, tacking them to trees, taping them to shop windows. Her hands moved on their own, as if scripted.