Megan's POV

I could see gray streaks in her still thick head of hair and wrinkles on her face, but I recognized her. It recognized her as the woman who had helped me all those years before. I used to imagine she was there as I cuddled a pillow at night. Imagine that she was stroking my hair with her fingertips as the aroma of chocolate chip cookies lingered on her. Through my window, I used to watch the moon rise and fervently hope that she would return to take me with her.

A few days later, I went back to the home, but to my disappointment, it was vacant....