The first time I saw Lissa, she was standing by the park’s vine-wrapped bench, her silver frame glinting in the spring sun, her optical sensors fixed on the ivy curling around the…
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The first time I saw her, the sun was filtering through the oak trees above the vine-wrapped bench, and her black curly hair was catching the light like crushed obsidian. She was…
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The sound of tiny paws tapping on the wooden porch woke us up—soft, eager, like someone couldn’t wait to start the day. Lila rolled over, laughing, and I pulled back the curtain…
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