The man stood.
“Your cat?”
“Yes.”
“His name is Winnie.”
The man looked down.
Then back at her.
“I had no idea.”
“He comes here every day?”
“Almost every morning.”
“For months.”
Marla felt dizzy.
The man set down his coffee.
“I’m Lucas Morgan.”
“My wife, Erin, and I moved here in September.”
“We rent.”
“One morning he appeared.”
“We thought he was a stray.”
“He looked healthy, so I figured somebody probably fed him.”
“But he kept coming.”
“You never checked for a chip?”
Lucas looked embarrassed.
“We never tried keeping him.”
“He arrives.”
“Eats.”
Sometimes sleeps on the porch.”
“Then leaves.”
“We thought he belonged nearby.”
Marla shook her head.
“I live almost two miles away.”
Lucas stared toward the direction of the bus stop.
“He walks that?”
“No.”
She laughed weakly.
“He takes the school bus.”
Lucas stopped.
“What?”
Marla almost cried from absurdity.
“He takes a school bus.”
“Every morning.”
Lucas slowly looked down at Winnie.
The cat continued eating.
“You commute?”
Winnie ignored him.
Marla laughed.
Then tears came unexpectedly.
She wiped them.
Lucas’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“No.”
“It’s not you.”
Marla looked at Winnie.
“My son adopted him four months ago.”
“He was from Bluewater Tails Rescue.”
“My husband died last year.”
“Theodore thought…”
Her voice broke.
“He thought we might help each other.”
Lucas nodded.
“I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
They stood in silence.
Winnie finished eating.
Then sat near the porch door.
Not leaving.
Waiting.
Marla looked at Lucas.
“Why this house?”
He shook his head.
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Was anything here when you moved in?”
“Empty house.”
“Landlord repainted.”
“Some old furniture in the basement.”
“Nothing else.”
Marla looked at Winnie.
“Come here.”
He walked to her.
She picked him up.
Winnie allowed it.
But over her shoulder, he stared at the front door.
Lucas noticed.
“So did Marla.
Something in that look felt wrong.
Not resistance.
Longing.
“I need to take him home.”
Lucas nodded.
“Of course.”
“We truly didn’t know.”
Marla carried Winnie back toward Oak Avenue.
He did not struggle.
Did not scratch.
Did not cry.
He simply kept looking behind them.
At 847 Oak Street.
On the bus ride home, Winnie curled in Marla’s lap.
But he did not purr.
That frightened her more than anything.
At home, she set him down.
He went directly to the living-room window.
Sat.
Looked toward the street.
Marla remained standing behind him.
“Who lives there?”
Winnie’s tail moved once.
“Why?”
No answer.
That afternoon, Marla called Theodore.
“Mom.”
“Are you okay?”
“Define okay.”
“What happened?”
“I followed Winnie.”
Silence.
“You followed the cat?”
“He takes a bus.”
Another silence.
“The school bus?”
“Yes.”
“Mom, are you still sick?”
“I am not hallucinating.”
Marla explained.
The bus.
Oak Avenue.