They crossed the street together, the dog staying close, checking back every few steps. The community park came into view, empty and gray. Maya didn’t see anything at first—just dripping benches, empty swings creaking in the wind. But then she stopped short, breath catching.
She turned slowly, scanning every corner—the sandbox, the seesaws, behind the restroom shed. Nothing. Her eyes stung from the rain. Was this a mistake? Had the dog misunderstood something? She thought of turning back and going home, but the dog was already padding ahead, nose low, tail low, ears alert.